


Around the World in 24 Days

by MittenWraith



Series: Tumblr Anonymous [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Academic Castiel, Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bees, Community: deancasbigbang, Competition, Dean vs Airplanes, Dean vs TV Cameras, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Honeymoon, Human Castiel, Humor, Llamas, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Pie, Reality TV, Smut, Tumblr, Wedding Night, Weddings, World Travel, blatant misuse of an IKEA, mention of past trauma but everyone's doing fine now, the amazing race - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 101,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8089096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: Dean and Cas might rather forget the traumatic events that brought them into the public eye, but with the help of their friends and family they’ve turned a terrifying experience into a resource of hope and help to others. In the process, they’ve attracted a little bit of attention from an ambitious TV producer who, after discovering Dean’s fear of flying and the fact that Dean and Cas are planning their upcoming wedding, thinks the best present for Dean, Cas, and all of their friends is to send them on a truly incredible honeymoon. Oh, and a lot of airplanes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is. The big thank you to everyone who wanted a huge Tumblr Anonymous story where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. Well, it only hurts a little bit, and in good ways... I hope. :)
> 
> A huge thank you to [Shellie](http://meangreenlimabean.tumblr.com) for the beta read, as usual. I probably wouldn't dare write stuff without you. :D
> 
> Thanks also to Shellie for the photosets!
> 
> Thanks to [inferification](http://inferification.livejournal.com/) for the lovely art!
> 
> And also thank you to the amazing [DeanCas Big Bang](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/) mods for putting on this challenge again. 
> 
> A quick note about the format here: [The Amazing Race](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Amazing_Race_\(U.S._TV_series\)) is a U.S. reality TV show that sends teams of two people on a race around the world, requiring them to complete (frankly GISHWHES-esque) tasks in order to receive their next clue. The process is explained in the story, but I took a few liberties with the race format to fit the plot of this story. I hope y'all enjoy it. It was incredibly fun to write. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean and Castiel are unwillingly thrust into the limelight.

Dean switches his phone back on Saturday afternoon, setting off a barrage of missed call notifications, text messages, and email alerts. The cacophony is doubled when Cas turns his phone back on, too. It had been less than two days since they’d shut themselves in their room to give Cas a chance to recover from his injuries, and to give them both a chance to prepare themselves for the media circus Victor had warned them about.

“Well, Vic wasn’t lying,” Dean says, staring in horror at the ridiculous number of notifications over practically every app icon on his phone. “Texts, calls, email… even Tumblr notifications, and I only got those set up for messages to the shop’s blog. How the hell did they even find it?”

Cas clicks through to his own overflowing voice mail and gives Dean a withering look from across their bed. “You can’t imagine it would be difficult for anyone who read our last post to connect you to Winchester Auto. We linked them to Dorothy’s article with our full names, and anyone who’s read our blog knows you built me a car.”

Dean shrugs, temporarily ignoring the mountain of what will likely amount to the Tumblr inbox version of junk mail and very few actual paying customers. He decides to start with his text message inbox first since it has the smallest number of new messages to sort through, and the messages themselves are likely shorter as well. May as well try and ease himself into this and then gradually work his way up to the really hard shit. He settles grumpily down into the pillows propped against their headboard and jabs the message icon harder than is strictly necessary.

Two seconds later he lets out a snort that has Cas trying to lean over to see what’s so funny. Cas freezes mid-lean and scrunches up his face, taking a few deep breaths to counteract the lingering dizziness from his concussion brought back in full force by his sudden movement. Dean drops his phone and helps Cas get comfortable again, fluffing his pillows and then taking the opportunity to scoot right up next to Cas. It’s not like Dean needs an excuse to cuddle, but he’ll take it anyway.

When they’re both comfortable again, Dean shows Cas the inbox.

“Thirty-six messages, and seventeen of ‘em are from Charlie,” Dean says, grinning as he clicks through to the conversation thread.

His grin fades almost instantly.

“The fuck?” he says, reading through Charlie’s increasingly antagonistic texts, which culminate in half a dozen that are nothing but huge blocks of poop emojis.

Those are the first messages that Cas sees. “Why did Charlie send you ten thousand grinning turds?”

Dean shakes his head and shoots Cas a guilty look as he scrolls back to Charlie’s first message.

>> _WHY DID I HAVE TO FIND OUT YOU TWO GOT OFFICIALLY ENGAGED ON TUMBLR? THAT IS SO NOT COOL._

Her messages run the gamut from threats to put them both in charge of the privies at the next Moondoor gathering, to threats to help Sam and Jess plan their entire wedding without their input, to incoherent babbling about the Rains of Castamere and Sir Launcelot breaking up a wedding at Swamp Castle, before she gives up and resorts to just sending him poop to express her displeasure.

“Guess we should’ve called a few people before we went into hiding,” Cas says nonchalantly before turning back to his own phone.

“Dude, I am afraid to call her back now,” Dean says, backing out of that thread and clicking on the next one. It’s three messages from Sam, and he feels only marginally less worried that his brother’s somehow planning his murder via geeky references.

>> _Hope you guys are doing okay. I figured you’d clock out for a few days. No worries. Call us when you’re feeling up to it._

_> >If you need anything, let me know. We’re going shopping this afternoon and can pick stuff up if you send us a list._

_> >Just saw your announcement. Jess is pissed you didn’t tell her first, but congrats to both of you. Saw that one coming a mile away._

Dean smiles and then taps out a quick reply.

<< _We’re all good here. Just drowning in messages from reporters and shit._

He stops typing mid-message and asks Cas if he’d mind inviting Sam and Jess over for dinner.

Cas closes his eyes and tilts his head from side to side, as if he’s trying to gauge how much he’s recovered from getting clocked on the head by checking to see if his brain’s still rattling around in there, then sighs as he blinks his eyes open again and tries to refocus on Dean.

“Better give it one more day,” Cas replies, waving one hand around like a small boat bobbing along in a heavy storm. “Everything’s still a little wobbly.”

Dean leans over and plants a gentle kiss on his temple. “It’s getting better though, right?”

Cas smiles and sighs. “Yes, Dean. I’m much better. I just want one more day of bed picnics.”

“When the weather warms up, we’ll go on some real picnics,” Dean says, recalling his promise to Cas about their honeymoon. “Then this summer we can lie back on the beach and someone else can bring us drinks in coconuts.”

Cas grins. “We have to plan the wedding before we can plan the honeymoon. At least that’s how I’ve been led to believe this works.”

“Twenty bucks says Sammy, Jess, and Charlie already got together to hate-plan the wedding for us.”

Cas’s eyebrows furrow at Dean’s cavalier tone. “That doesn’t worry you? Even after all those poop emojis?”

Dean laughs, settling back in against Cas’s side. “Nah. She’ll get over it long before the wedding. Probably.”

Cas continues to scrutinize him.

“What?”

“When _is_ the wedding?” Cas finally asks. “We should think about setting a date before Charlie picks one for us.”

Dean shrugs. “If it were up to me I’d drive us down to the courthouse on Monday morning.”

“This is why it’s not up to you, Dean,” Cas says, rubbing one hand placatingly along Dean’s arm. “Though I do appreciate the sentiment. I’d rather not make it a big production of it, especially after everything that’s happened. As long as all our family and friends are there, I don’t really care when or how it happens. I don’t think they’d forgive us for leaving them out of the loop a second time.”

Dean grabs up Cas’s hand and swipes his thumb across his knuckles. “Yeah. Same.”

“I was thinking the first weekend in June,” Cas suggests, closing his eyes and leaning back into the pillows while Dean continues to play with his fingers. “After I graduate but before I have to start teaching full time. The weather will be nice enough to hold a reception in the back yard.”

Dean smiles down at Cas’s fingers in his hand and twists the ring he put there around Cas’s finger until the golden bee is lined up on top. He can see it now, their yard full of all the people who love them, enjoying good food and good music. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Nothing about their relationship has ever been _fancy_. There’s no point in trying to pretend otherwise just for the sake of a stupid fucking _wedding_.

“So a courthouse wedding and a summer barbecue it is,” Dean finally says.

Cas hums contentedly, then nuzzles his cheek against the top of Dean’s head where it’s come to rest on his shoulder. “That would be acceptable.”

“That’s settled, then,” Dean replies, loath to move now that he’s feeling all warm and fuzzy.

His phone chimes with yet another new message from yet another reporter, and he grudgingly gets back to work. He finishes off the message to Sam with an invitation to Sunday dinner, and then moves on to the rest of his messages.

There’s one from Krissy congratulating him and Cas and letting him know everything down at the shop was fine during his absence that week.

There’s one from Victor offering assistance in dealing with any reporters who don’t know how to take no for an answer.

The remaining fourteen messages are from fourteen different reporters. Most of them are from clickbaity-sounding websites, but there’s one from the local paper and even a couple from local tv stations. He’s tempted to delete them all, because fuck anyone who was pushy enough to go digging for his personal phone number instead of leaving a message at his shop or on their blog. He hasn’t given his number to very many people, and he can’t imagine any of them handing it out without his permission, yet more than a dozen people have found it anyway. It’s a little unsettling to think about anyone other than Charlie, and now maybe Ash, having the kinds of skills needed to track down unlisted phone numbers.

He puts that thought out of his mind and shows the list of news outlets requesting an interview with them to Cas. They narrow the list down to that one reporter on the six o’clock news that Dean likes because he says “okie dokey” a lot, the friendly-but-not-too-chipper-first-thing-in-the-morning lady from the early morning news on a competing station, a reporter from the local paper, and a journalism student from the University who wants to run a series of articles about their blog and their personal history for the school’s paper. Dean’s ready to dismiss that one, but Cas insists they give him a chance, since he’s familiar with the kid’s work from having taught one of his classes the previous semester.

“Kevin’s a bright kid,” Cas says. “I don’t think it’ll hurt to at least hear him out.”

“If you say so,” Dean replies, deleting all the rest of the messages without even bothering to reply.

They spend the next hour scheduling interviews, replying to email, and eventually calling back their friends and family to give them the update that they’re doing fine and just taking it easy for a few more days. Dean lets Charlie chew his ear off for a few minutes until she runs out of steam, and then rewards her with the tentative wedding date of June fourth. When she squeals into the phone so loud that dogs three towns over can probably hear her, Dean jerks the phone away from his ear so fast he nearly smacks Cas in the face with it. Charlie hears him curse out a string of panicked _sorry_ _fuck dammit are you okay shit i’m sorry_ to Cas, and finally goes apologetically quiet.

“Right. Sorry. Forgot you guys are still on sick bed duty,” she says in a much more reasonable tone of voice. “I guess I’ll let you go rest. I’ve got a lot of work to do anyway now, what with an official date and all.”

“Nothing crazy, Charlie,” Dean warns her in the sternest voice he can muster. “I mean it. We’ve had enough excitement for the whole year already. And it’s only January second.”

“Yeah, okay. I get it,” she replies after a drawn-out minute of silence. “I’ll just go kick a pebble and order a couple of kegs from Ellen.”

“Hey, Charlie?” Dean says, his tone softer now. “Thanks. For everything. If it hadn’t been for you, we might not even be around to think about wedding planning today.”

If Charlie hadn’t used her hacking skills to discover the source of their anonymous hate mail, and then insisted on involving the police in their case, there’s no telling how much worse things would’ve turned out. Cas would be fine after a few more days of rest, and Dean’s not going to suffer anything worse than the nightmares that have been plaguing him since the incident. He tries not to let his mind wander down all the dark alleys of what could’ve happened had they not been prepared, but he can’t help it when he’s asleep.

“Yes,” Cas adds, taking a deep breath and swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Charlie says quietly. “Best day’s work I ever did.”

“Right,” Dean chokes out. “Agreed.”

Cas wriggles around until he can get his arms wrapped around Dean and hugs him tight. “We’ll talk to you soon, Charlie,” he says, and then takes Dean’s phone from his hands and disconnects the call.

They spend the next hour reminding each other with their hands and mouths and bodies that they both survived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean is subjected to something potentially far worse than limelight, by virtue of having virtuous friends.

Saturday night, after another bed picnic dinner, they finally decide to risk a venture into their Tumblr inboxes. Dean wades through a ton of messages in his official WinchesterAuto inbox, weeding out the few that are from potential paying customers and doing his best to reply personally to everyone who’d sent him a message of support. He finds several more inquiries from reporters there, but most of them are duplicates of the texts he’d already dealt with in one way or another and he ends up deleting them all.

His FianceAnon inbox tells another story. The first few are from people encouraging him and Cas to stay strong and reminders to try and focus on the good things in life. Dean’s a bit dumbstruck that their strange little courtship has apparently had such a positive and encouraging effect on some of the people that follow them. He finds himself stopping to read passages out to Cas so he can share in the amazed wonder Dean’s experiencing as he tries to reply to such heartfelt messages with something more than a simple _thanks_.

“Dude, listen to this one, ‘I am so in love with your love. Your happiness is contagious. I wish there were more people in the world like you guys.’” He turns to Cas with a funny look on his face. “They’re _in love with our love_. What the fuck is that?”

Cas laughs and turns his laptop around so Dean can see the message he’s replying to. Dean reads a nearly identical message sent to their Human-Bee-ing blog, while Cas answers him. “People enjoy happy endings, Dean. It’s human nature. If we can overcome all the odds and find happiness, maybe they can, too.”

“Huh,” Dean replies, and keeps that in mind as he sends out his myriad _thank you’s_.

It takes him twenty minutes to empty his inbox, but Cas is still neck deep in his own. It only makes sense. Dean’s FianceAnon blog has only been active for two days, and he’s only ever sent one single ask message-- to Cas-- from it. He hasn’t even made a proper post of his own yet.

Human-Bee-ing, however, has had a pretty respectable following since long before their current drama erupted. Even though they turned off anonymous messages, Cas’s inbox is practically bursting at the seams. There’s no possible way they can respond to every one of them. There’s got to be _thousands_ of them.

“Shit, Cas, we’re gonna be sorting through those for weeks,” Dean says, setting his laptop on his nightstand and sliding in next to Cas to get a better look at the screen.

“That’s not all,” Cas replies calmly, clicking on the dropdown menu to show Dean their current follower count. “About a hundred more followed us while I’ve been replying to this one message.”

“The hell? Are they some kind of sick rubberneckers? Like people who slow down to stare at car crashes?”

Cas shoots him a disapproving frown before signing off his message and hitting send. “No, Dean, most of them seem to be looking for hope.”

Dean mostly sits there quietly, reading over Cas’s shoulder as he responds to the next few messages, only making an occasional noise of surprise or consideration. Until Cas opens a different sort of message.

_Dear Dean and Cas (it’s nice to finally have real names to call you guys, even if it’s a little weird actually addressing you both by name),_

_I’ve been following your blog for a while now, and I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you found each other and everything worked out for you both. I had a different kind of experience meeting an online crush last year, and without going into the gory details, I’m scared to risk putting myself out there like that again. But you guys have been there, too. You know the kind of evil that’s out there, and here you are still telling us that we’re not out here fighting it on our own. I haven’t worked up the courage to even talk about what happened to me yet, and you guys are still offering us a helping hand if we need it. I’m overwhelmed by your kindness, even after everything you’ve been through._

_I’m getting help to deal with my situation, but I know so many others who don’t have family and friends to support them, and they’re probably out there suffering alone. So on their behalf, for everyone who is too afraid to tell you themselves, thanks for what you said, and for offering to help. Sometimes just knowing you’re not alone makes all the difference._

Dean and Cas sit there and let it sink in for a minute, and then Dean quietly says, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s still kinda fucked up that complete strangers spend this much time thinking about us, but shit.” Dean waves a hand at the screen, unable to put what he’s feeling into words. “Just, I guess you’re right.”

Cas turns a watery smile on him, and agrees. “There’s power in a community, Dean. Even if that community consists of people whose only bond to one another is their shared interest in our modest little blog.”

“That’s just…” Dean starts, casting a slightly helpless glance at Cas and then rereading the last line of the message. “What are we supposed to do about it?”

Cas shrugs. “Exactly what we’ve always done, I guess.”

“And just let this all blow over? Go back to normal?”

“I don’t think anything’s ever going to be completely normal again after this,” Cas says, setting his laptop aside and reaching out to take Dean’s hand. “But I don’t know what else we can really do for all these people. I’ve replied to a few who I referred to other websites where they can find additional resources, but there’s _hundreds_ of them, Dean. There’s no way for us to help everyone individually. It’s just not possible.”

Dean stares down at their entwined fingers, frowning. He and Cas have a lot of practice shrugging off hateful bullshit, but he suspects that most of the people who sent them messages don’t. The first time Cas had showed him one of his more disturbing anonymous messages several months earlier, after Dean had recovered from feeling physically ill over it, it had pissed him right the hell off. What gave some stranger the right to say such sickening things to someone like Cas? But Cas had brushed it off with a shrug and deleted the message, after blocking and reporting the account that had sent it. It was just one of the many reasons why Dean had always restricted his online activity to his business dealings and keeping in touch with a few very carefully selected friends. And Cas, of course.

It took him over a year and hundreds of anonymous exchanges, and then Cas finally making the first move, before he decided to take the risk and meet Cas in person. He could’ve ended up in the same kind of situation he’d been swept up in back in high school, the first time he’d tangled with Michael. He could’ve ended up dead. Or worse, when Michael finally found them again last week, _Cas_ could’ve ended up…

He can’t stop the image of Cas in danger from rising up in his mind’s eye, of Cas hanging limp in Luke’s arms while the evil fucker held a bloody knife to Cas’s throat, standing over Luke’s own brother’s body bleeding out on the floor.

 _No_ , he thinks, dropping Cas’s hand in favor of pulling him into a smothering hug, burying his face against Cas’s neck. _No, not even gonna think it_. It’s all still too fresh in his mind, watching the car speeding out of the shop’s parking lot, knowing that some truly evil people had taken Cas from him. “It’s okay, Dean,” he hears Cas say, and then realizes he’s crying, clutching Cas too tight, but Cas stops him from pulling away.

“We’re both okay. You stopped him, Dean. He’s never coming for us again.”

Dean lets Cas hold him until the memory fades away, at least for now.

“It’s pretty fucked up, you know?” Dean finally says when he can catch his breath. “Shouldn’t I be the one comforting you?”

Cas snorts, but still doesn’t let him get far. “I don’t even remember most of it. All I got was a bad headache. You had to see everything. I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

“Not your fault, Cas,” Dean says, finally cracking a smile. “And I’d do it all again if it meant I could keep you safe.”

“Hmmm. I’d prefer not to get hit over the head again.”

“Dork,” Dean replies, and then leans in for a kiss.

Cas smiles when Dean pulls away, and then moves his computer back to his lap.

“So what _are_ we gonna do for all these people?”

Cas types a simple reply of thanks and encouragement to the person whose message had started this conversation, and then moves to open the next message in line. It’s nowhere near as hopeful as the previous message, and he sends an immediate reply urging them to contact someone for help, passing on the meager list of references he’d been able to scrounge up online. It isn’t much, but it’s all he can really do.

“I see what you mean, Dean. We can’t just brush this off and pretend they’re all going to be okay. Not now that we’ve seen proof that some of them definitely _aren’t_.”

Dean watches a revelation cross Cas’s face before he whips into action, clicking out of their message box and creating a new blog. Cas tries a few url’s before he finds one he can use and then sets to work formatting it to his liking.

“Human-bee-ings?” Dean asks as Cas puts the finishing touches on his selected theme. “What’s the point of starting a new blog?”

“It’s a place for all those people to get together and talk to each other, to help _each other_.”

Dean makes a noncommittal little noise, but keeps watching as Cas starts writing a new post introducing the site.

_To everyone who reached out to us in the last few days, we’re overwhelmed in the best possible way by your kind words and support. Many of you have also come to us in search of help, or hope, or just to share your own stories of survival. We wish we could do more and reply to each of you individually, but we’ve received hundreds of messages, and there’s just two of us. We think the best thing for us to do is to introduce you all to each other, so we’ve started this new blog in order to help make that happen._

“Okay, genius,” Dean interrupts. “How’s this gonna help anyone?”

Cas stops typing long enough to glare at Dean, and then continues.

_We aren’t sure how this new site will work yet, but we want to make these resources available to anyone in immediate need of assistance, be it legal or otherwise. We’ll be updating this new site as soon as we can with additional information. A single bee on its own can’t survive, but working together as a hive they keep our world filled with beautiful flowers, delicious fruit, and the sweetest honey. And that’s what we want for all of you._

Cas pastes in the short list of hotlines and websites he’d compiled while trying to offer assistance to their followers individually and then posts it all. He reblogs it to their main blog, and then takes a deep breath and closes his laptop.

“That’s all we can do for now, but it’s better than nothing.”

 

Sunday passes all too quickly. They make the most of it by lounging in bed and watching movies until Dean has to get up to start dinner. He roasts a chicken and makes mashed potatoes and green beans to go with the homemade biscuits Jess volunteered to bring. She also brings a carrot cake decorated with tiny plastic bees and “ _Congratulations you dorks!”_ written across the top in yellow icing. When Dean tries to complain that it should’ve been a congratulatory pie, Jess punches him on the shoulder and tells him she wasn’t about to ruin a perfectly good pie with cream cheese frosting lettering.

“It’s the thought that counts, Dean,” Cas says, gently lifting a plastic bee from his slice of cake with his fork and setting it down on his plate before smiling up at Jess. “And this was very thoughtful.”

Dean reluctantly agrees, and by the time he’s cutting himself a third slice he’s actually admitted it out loud. He adds his bees to Cas’s growing hive, using his fork to prod them around Cas’s otherwise empty plate into various arrangements, acting out a little bee pantomime for Cas’s benefit. The entire scene leaves Sam gagging at how gross they are and Jess cooing at how adorable they are. Miraculously, Dean doesn’t even give a crap. He just keeps poking at the bees while they sit around the table and talk.

Dean and Cas are surprised to learn that Charlie hasn’t been in touch with Sam and Jess yet to conspire over secret outrageous wedding plans. It usually takes her far less than twenty-four hours to start scheming up a good party. They’re equally surprised to learn that Sam and Jess haven’t bothered conspiring amongst themselves, either.

“Figured you two would’ve assembled a scrapbook of color schemes and flower arrangements by now,” Dean says, collecting their dessert plates and taking them to the sink. “I’m actually a little disappointed in your sudden lack of initiative. You guys don’t usually miss the chance to plan a party you expect us to host.”

Sam shoots a worried look at Jess, who shrugs and turns around in her seat to face Dean at the counter, watching Dean carefully scrub frosting off all the bees and arrange them on the kitchen windowsill.

“We figured this is your wedding and we wanted to leave it up to you guys.”

Sam cuts in when Jess doesn’t seem to know how to continue. He takes a deep breath and just spits it out. “You both have lost your privacy, your safety, and your peace of mind this week. It just seemed, I don’t know… _wrong_ somehow to take anything else away from you. Even something as insignificant as what color tablecloths you should have at your wedding.”

Dean looks from Sam, to Jess, and finally to Cas, who’s smiling giddily at Sam.

“That’s very kind of you,” Cas says.

“Yeah,” Dean grunts out, and clears his throat. “We aren’t having _tablecloths_ anyway. We’re saying ‘I do’ and then we’re firing up the grill. End of story. Planning meeting adjourned.”

He turns back around to finish washing the dishes, and so no one will see the goofy, happy grin on his face.

“We will need to get a cake, Dean,” Cas adds. “It’s traditional.”

“Sure,” Dean says. “Fine. Get a cake. But we’re having pie, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein limelights become television camera lights, and Dean wishes he could return to the former with far less of the latter.

Monday morning comes way too soon for Dean. Cas still has one more week off before he has to be back at school, but he’s finally feeling well enough to get back to work on his thesis, and Professor Moseley sent her preliminary editorial notes for him to begin plowing through. Dean, however, for the first time in his entire life, is dreading going in to work.

He loves the garage, and only a week ago had been complaining about falling behind in his schedule for taking a single day off for Christmas. After taking the rest of the week off due to far less fun reasons, he’s still not ready to leave Cas alone. He’s also not entirely sure he’s ready to go back to the place where Luke had snatched Cas away from him.

Cas assures him that everything will be fine, and that _he’ll_ be fine driving himself over to the garage at lunchtime to meet with Kevin to give him their initial interview. They’ve got the evening news guy coming by the garage at four, and then they’re meeting a reporter from the Lawrence paper for dinner. Between all that and the work Dean needs to catch up on, Cas insists he won’t have time to worry about anything else. Dean’s not buying it, but Cas practically shoves him out the door with a kiss and a promise to see him in a few hours, so he pastes on a brave face and heads to the shop.

Somewhere between the house and the garage, Dean convinces himself he’s not a pathetic little chickenshit for parking the Impala out front. He’ll work his way up to parking in his regular space out back-- the exact spot where Luke attacked Cas and abducted him in broad daylight-- in a day or two. The customer lot in front of the garage is more than big enough to accommodate Baby without inconveniencing any actual customers.

He strolls in through the front door and is greeted by friendly smiles from Krissy, Lee, and Jo.

“Welcome back, boss man,” Krissy says, tossing him the completed paperwork for the last car he remembered working on before… well, before. “Got an engagement present for ya.”

“What the… Who finished the Nova?” He glares over at Lee and then Jo, who shrugs and nods at Krissy.

“You’re lookin’ at her,” Krissy replies. “Jo helped a little. Mainly she just found your crib notes and translated your terrible handwriting for me.”

“It’s an acquired skill,” Jo says. “You just have to learn to decipher the secret code.”

Dean stands there and watches the two of them debate first his note taking skills, before moving on to whether or not finishing the car counts as a suitable engagement gift.

“He did get the better part of a week off and it only took us a day and a half to finish the Nova,” Krissy says.

“He’ll probably insist he could’ve had it done in half that time,” Jo says, shaking her head in mock sadness. “He’ll never know the torment of that rusted muffler clamp.”

“Or the agony of the customer calling three times to change his mind on which radio he wanted us to install,’ Krissy adds, her eyes widening in horror. “Three times! Three times I had to swap out the dumb radio!”

Jo just shrugs and turns a grin on Dean. “Yeah, he paid for all three radios. Moron.”

Dean, who’s been watching this entire exchange, only now realizes that he’s not experiencing the foreboding he’d been expecting for days now. The garage doesn’t feel any different than it ever did before. He glances up at Lee, who’s watching his daughter and Jo with equal bemusement when he catches Dean’s eye and grins, patting Dean on the shoulder.

“Congrats, man, and welcome back.”

It hits Dean that he really loves these people. They’re part of his family, and here they are welcoming him home in the best way possible, just by being themselves.

“Yeah, thanks,” he replies. “It’s like I never left.”

“What, you mean you don’t live in a secret tunnel under your desk back there?” Krissy says. “I have to say I’m a little disappointed. It’s like learning that your teachers don’t live at school, or that the tooth fairy doesn’t have a sparkly magic wand.”

“Nope,” Lee says with a goofy smile. “Just a greasy old socket wrench.” He gives the tool in his hand a spin like it was a party noisemaker.

“Festive, Dad,” Krissy says, before turning a serious face on Dean and pointing at him in warning. “We expect classier party favors at your wedding.”

“Party favors?” Dean asks, confused. “Aren’t those for little kid parties?”

Jo shares an exasperated look with Krissy before taking Dean by the elbow and leading him out to the garage.

“We’re gonna have pie _and_ cake!” Dean shouts over his shoulder as Jo pulls him through the door into the noisy repair bays. “That’s about as classy as me and Cas get.”

Dean discovers, thanks to Krissy and Jo, that he’s not nearly as behind schedule as he expected to be. He’s only two days behind on the ‘69 SS that’s up next, and the delay only means that all the parts he’d ordered for her are ready and waiting for him, which is actually a refreshing change of pace. He dives right in and for a few hours forgets everything that had made him dread coming back to the shop.

Cas turns up a few minutes before noon with leftover chicken sandwiches and a batch of slightly burnt on the bottom chocolate chip cookies. Dean’s never been happier to see him, and nudges him with one clean-ish elbow through to the break room so he can wash his hands and strip off his grungy coveralls before giving Cas a huge relieved hug.

“You didn’t have any trouble driving?” Dean asks as he scrubs grime from his fingernails with pumice soap. “No dizziness or anything?”  
“None at all,” Cas replies, sitting down and setting out their lunch on the little cafe table. “As long as I don’t get knocked over the head again, I think I’m back to normal.”

“Yeah, as normal as you ever were.”

Dean pulls Cas from his chair for that hug and then they both set to eating before Kevin arrives. Cas fills him in on the excitement from the home front, including the story behind the burnt cookies.

“They were those pre-made dough balls. How the hell did you screw them up?”

“I checked on them once and they needed a few more minutes, so I went back to finish the page I was editing and got... carried away. There are three perfect sentences on that page, Dean.”

“I guess a few overdone cookies are a small price to pay for three perfect sentences.”

Cas nods solemnly and dunks one of the cookies in a glass of milk before cramming it in his mouth. “You have no idea.”

Dean leans in and kisses the crumbs from Cas’s lips, and that’s when they hear someone clear their throat from the doorway. Dean leans to the side just enough to see around Cas, as Cas turns in his seat to greet Kevin.

“Uh, sorry. Krissy… right? Krissy? At the front?” Kevin waves his hand vaguely down the hall and looks a little nervous, unsure he’s in the right place. “She said I could just come back and find you. Dean? And Mr. Nov… I mean, Cas.”

Cas smiles up at him like he’s pleased he could finally convince Kevin to use his first name. “Come in and have a seat, Kevin. We’re just finishing our lunch. This is Dean. Dean, this is Kevin Tran.”

The last name sparks a memory that has Dean sitting up straighter in his seat. “Tran, eh? Wasn’t that the name of the doctor who fixed your head?”

Cas thinks about it for a second and then glances up at Kevin, who’s fidgeting uncomfortably and trying to organize his notebook and pens on the table instead of looking at either of them.

“Linda Tran, yeah,” he says, uncapping a pen and poising it over his notebook as if the act of doing so will put him back in charge of asking the questions. “She’s my mom. She’s actually the one who told me about what happened to you. She remembered you were one of my teachers last semester, and she thought I’d be glad to know you’re doing fine. Which I am. Glad. For you. Um. Yeah.”  
“Thank you, Kevin,” Cas replies kindly. “I appreciate it. Now, you were telling me you were interested in doing a series of articles? What would you propose?”

Kevin lays out his plan to break their story up into three separate pieces. The first would cover how they met online and carried out an anonymous relationship for more than a year before finally meeting in person, and the whirlwind of their relationship once they finally did. The second would cover the history and legal details of their online stalker turned real life stalker.

“I originally intended to leave it it that, but with your new anti-bullying blog, I think there’s definitely enough for a third article.”

Dean and Cas exchange a confused glance before Dean turns to Kevin and says, “Enough what?”

At the same time Cas says, “We haven’t really thought through what we intend to do with the new blog, other than to set it up and put up a single post, mostly as a placeholder and a reference for people who need immediate help.”

It’s Kevin’s turn to look confused, and he slowly reaches down into his backpack and pulls out his laptop. “Well, someone’s been setting things up. If it’s not you guys, this might turn into a very different story than the one I’d planned to write. Is someone trying to piggyback off your name recognition to get attention for themselves? Or maybe it’s a rogue do-gooder hacker.”

The whole time he’s failing spectacularly to explain himself, he’s turning on the computer and pulling up their new page on Tumblr. When it’s up and running he turns the laptop around for Dean and Cas to see.

“That’s your page, right?” Kevin asks.

Dean and Cas lean close together to scroll down the page they’d made two nights earlier. At first glance, nothing much has changed. Their original post is still there, right at the top of the page, only instead of the handful of links and references they’d added to it, there’s now dozens. As they reach the bottom of the expanded list, they notice that there’s also more posts.

The mystery explains itself almost immediately, when they notice the second post is signed _The Queen of Moons_.

“Charlie,” they mutter in unison.

“No wonder she hasn’t been pestering us about wedding plans,” Dean says, leaning back in his chair. “She’s been busy.”

Cas nods and keeps scrolling through the impressive amount of work Charlie seems to have done in so short a time. Her introductory post explains that in addition to providing resources and awareness, they’re constructing an interactive platform to connect people together for support. Cas clicks the link and finds pages of people who’ve posted some of the same messages he recalls reading in their inbox the other night before he and Dean became overwhelmed at the prospect of answering them all. Apparently Charlie found a solution for them.

They’d started out as a thousand lone voices begging to be heard, but Charlie had brought them together into a chorus. The new blog is _filled_ with story after story from people who’ve suffered online-- or even real life-- bullying, as well as many more people offering to extend a hand to help them.

He follows one thread and is gratified to see a conversation beginning, people reaching out to support each other, and perhaps even taking those first unwitting steps toward friendship he and Dean had taken over a year ago. He’s speechless and turns a stunned glance on Dean, who just smiles back at him and shrugs.

“That’s Charlie for you,” Dean says.

“So,” Kevin interrupts before they become distracted by the site again. “You guys _didn’t_ make this?”

“We started it,” Cas says, clicking back to his original main page. “But a friend of ours built it into what you see here.”

“And you said his name is Charlie?” Kevin jots it down on his pad, and looks up hopefully, waiting for more information.

“Her,” Dean corrects him. “She’s also the evil genius responsible for getting us together.”

Cas elbows him in the ribs and keeps right on scrolling. Another message is signed _Dr. Badass_ , and that gets Dean’s attention.

“Looks like she conspired with Ash, too,” he says. “Wonder how many minutes it took him to put all this together.”

Cas snorts, recalling their first meeting with the man. It had taken him less than twelve minutes to hack Tumblr and uncover the identity of their stalker. It couldn’t have been anywhere near as difficult for him to assemble a functioning chat platform. Cas goes to double-check their inbox, and finds it nearly back to its normal, pre-abduction state. The messages are all personal in nature, and none are from people asking for their help. The fifth message down is from Ash himself, explaining what he’d done.

“He created an automatic form that generates a reply asking if the sender would like their message to be posted to the bulletin boards. If they agree, it automatically posts it for them. If they don’t, it leaves the message in our inbox.”

“Efficient,” Dean says.

“So you guys didn’t know anything about all this?” Kevin asks again.

“Nope,” Dean replies. “But Charlie and Ash probably think of it as an engagement present.”

Cas nods in agreement.

“Okay, then,” Kevin says again, reaching out to slowly close the laptop and get their attention again before pointedly waggling his pen. “Now that we’ve got that settled, would you mind starting back at the beginning?”

 

The rest of their interview is pretty standard stuff, and they repeatedly just refer Kevin back to their blog for answers. Dean jokes that those long FAQ posts they’d made over the course of their relationship are finally paying off, but he squirms a little when Cas suggests to Kevin that he read through all the posts tagged #Fiance Anon to understand their entire history. Cas frowns at Dean and reminds him that thousands of people have already read those posts, and telling one more person they exist-- even a news reporter-- isn’t exactly a life-altering decision.

They fill in a few details that they’d never put on their blog before, since they’d only revealed their identities to Tumblr in the last few days. Things that had always been hush-hush, such as details about their lives that may have given too big of a hint toward uncovering their real names or occupations or their day-to-day activities, could finally be made public. The more they talk about it, the less weird it becomes. It seems perfectly natural to be honest about everything for once, and it proves to be a lot less stressful than trying to be strategically vague about huge chunks of their life.

After about an hour, Kevin thanks them, packs up his notebook, and heads out. Dean and Cas just sit there for a few minutes, stunned by all they’d learned and a little bit drained from talking about it all again.

“Charlie has really outdone herself,” Cas finally says, unable to put into words the relief he feels. After struggling with a sense of helplessness for half the weekend, with no idea where to even begin addressing all the people who’d come to them for help, it’s a huge burden lifted from his shoulders knowing they won’t have to struggle alone anymore.

“Nah,” Dean answers, pulling Cas into a hug. “She’ll never top kicking my butt into meeting you.”

Dean reluctantly pulls away and puts his grimy coveralls back on so he can return to work for a few hours before the television crew is scheduled to turn up. He walks Cas out to his car, parked right out front next to Baby, expecting him to drive home. Instead, Cas retrieves his laptop and notes and heads back into the shop.

“I thought this might be more convenient than making several unnecessary trips,” Cas says as they tromp down the hall toward Dean’s little office.

Dean hasn’t even been back inside since right after Cas was released from the hospital. It’s the scene of the two standout events he actually _enjoys_ remembering from that awful day; namely him getting down on one knee and proposing to Cas, and then later that night, Cas getting down on one knee and proposing to him. What, it was a fucked up day.

Cas sets his messenger bag down on Dean’s desk and then pulls Dean in for a kiss. He reaches down and grabs Dean’s hand, and pulls back from the kiss in shock. He lifts Dean’s hand and glares up at him accusatorily.

“What happened to your ring, Dean?”

Dean snorts and reaches through the opening on the side of his coveralls into the pocket of his jeans beneath and pulls out the honeycomb ring Cas had slid onto his finger in that very spot.

“Didn’t want it to get destroyed. Or have to scrub grease out of all the honeycombs.”

Cas frowns for a second and studies the ring he’d picked for Dean. “I chose it because it seemed durable enough to stand up to your work, but I didn’t even think about it getting dirty.”

“Cas, you are not having second thoughts about my ring,” Dean says in a tone that brooks no argument. “I wouldn’t wear _any_ kind of ring while working on an engine. It’s a matter of safety. Plus, I like it too much to risk ruining it.”

“You’re sure?” Cas asks, still contemplating the ring. “I could get you a plain ring if you’d prefer it.”

Dean groans and takes the ring back from Cas and jams it on his finger. “Cas, I think it’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But I also don’t want to get it covered with brake fluid or engine grime or axle grease, okay?”

That finally earns a smile from Cas, who takes his hand and slips Dean’s ring off again.

“Maybe I should get you a chain to wear it around your neck like Frodo.”

“So you’ll have an excuse to make _my precious_ comments?” Dean grins. “Nah. I’ll pass.”

Cas distracts him with another kiss and snakes a hand into his coveralls to drop the ring back into Dean’s pocket.

 

Dean’s preoccupied with replacing a worn out wheel bearing, singing along with Tom Petty on the radio, when Cas sneaks up behind him.

“It doesn’t count as sneaking when I practically have to yell to be heard over all this noise,” Cas practically yells.

Dean turns down his radio, which only helps a little bit considering there are three other mechanics hard at work in the same space.

“It’s quarter to four,” Cas says. “I thought you’d like a chance to get cleaned up before the camera crew gets here.”

“You don’t think I’m camera ready?” Dean asks, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and leaving a sooty black streak in its place.

“I’m beginning to think we should’ve invited the eleven o’clock news people instead, so you would’ve had a chance to shower first.”

Dean grumbles, but lets Cas lead him back to the break room to get cleaned up again. The news van shows up ten minutes later and the circus begins in earnest.

Dean and Cas are asked if it’s possible to film out back, and to walk the reporter through the events exactly as they happened. They share a concerned look but eventually agree. It’s somehow a little easier driving both of their cars around to their usual spots behind the garage when there’s three guys documenting the entire event for posterity. Taking direction from the cameraman lets them experience the whole thing second-hand, as if it had all happened to other people and they’ve just been hired to act the whole thing out after the fact.

After fifteen friendly minutes just chatting with the reporter, including at least four okie dokeys which makes Dean’s whole damn afternoon, they end up leaning casually against the side of Cas’s car for the interview. Before they know it, the crew is packing up and heading back to the station. The entire process lasts less than half an hour before Dean and Cas are left standing by the back door to the garage vaguely wondering if any of that had even been real. Suddenly they have an unexpected hour and a half to kill before their dinner meeting with the last reporter of the day, so they both shrug and head back to work.

By the time they arrive home that night, they’re both exhausted.

“I never want to talk about myself again,” Dean groans as they head upstairs to shower.

“There’s only one more interview,” Cas reminds him. “First thing in the morning at the Channel 8 studio. Then we’re officially done.”

“Why did I agree to a six a.m. live interview again?” Dean groans, stripping off his shirt and flinging it at the laundry basket.

“Because you think Sarah Blake is cute and perky, but not annoyingly so first thing in the morning,” Cas reminds him.

Dean rolls his eyes and kicks off his jeans. “I take it back. Everything is annoying at six in the morning.”

 

Sarah Blake is not annoying at six in the morning. Dean readjusts his assessment pretty quickly when she welcomes them to the studio and leads them straight to a spread of donuts, bagels, coffee, and juice. He zeroes in on the lone pink frosted and rainbow besprinkled donut on the table and shoots a delighted grin at Cas, gesturing to his proper engagement ring with the donut before taking a bite.

“I did briefly consider having a ring custom made to resemble a pink frosted donut,” Cas says, fixing himself a bagel with cream cheese.

“Pink frosted donut engagement rings are for fake anonymous Tumblr fiancees,” Dean says emphatically around a mouthful of donut. “I earned the real thing.”

Cas snorts out a laugh. “Yes, you did.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah says, setting down the cup of coffee she was pouring for herself. “You two are really like this in real life.”

Dean keeps chewing and gives her a confused little look. Cas blinks up at her in surprise.

“I mean, I’ve been following your blog for a while now,” she says.

Even through a layer of weird orange TV makeup, Dean can tell she’s blushing.

“I heard about it from a friend of mine who used to go on and on about how cute you were. We always thought you played up your personalities for the internet, but you two are the genuine article, aren’t you?”

Dean gulps down his donut in a state of mild panic and looks over at Cas, who shrugs sort of helplessly.

“Well, then,” she says absently, “This is going to be more fun than I thought. When you’re ready, follow me.”

Sarah lets them know that it’s fine to bring their coffee with them, and then steers them them to a corner of the studio where a makeup artist awaits. She apologizes for the necessity, but assures them they need it if they don’t want to look like a couple of corpses at six in the morning on a regional television broadcast. She says something about lights and high definition cameras that Dean ignores in favor of glaring down at the palette of unnaturally orange hues the nice makeup lady is threatening him with. Dean’s seriously reconsidering his initial positive assessment of Sarah’s character.

“You can wash it off the second the interview is over, Dean,” Cas tells him calmly from the makeup chair while the makeup artist tucks a couple of tissues into his collar and sets to work on him.

“You look like you got a bad spray tan, Cas,” he grumbles while watching, fascinated, as this woman turns his fiance into a pumpkin. He shuts up before he can start making fairy godmother jokes or asking if Cas will turn back into himself at midnight.

Dean takes Cas’s place a few minutes later and suffers through the ordeal with his eyes mostly squeezed shut. When the artist asks him to open his eyes and look straight ahead, he focuses on Cas standing just behind him in the mirror rather than have to stare at his own unsettlingly made up features.

After a traumatizing four minutes in the makeup chair, Sarah whisks them off to a comfy little stage decorated to resemble a generic living room with a very modern looking bright red couch and chair, a shiny chrome floor lamp that’s not actually plugged in to anything and just seems to be there for ambiance or some stupid shit like that, and an elaborate glass topped coffee table with a potted fern that Dean’s pretty sure is fake sitting atop it. A guy wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard snags their coffee out of their hands before they get anywhere close to the furniture.

“Hey, I was drinking that!” Dean mutters when he sees the guy toss his cup into the trash. Even worse is the fact that Cas actually _thanks_  the guy for stealing his coffee. Dean just stares at Cas, who’s nervously running his hands over his tie. Normally you’d have to pry Cas’s coffee from his cold, dead hands. “Who are you and what have you done with my fiance?”

Cas blinks at him a few times and Dean realizes that, no, Cas hasn’t been abducted by aliens and replaced with a defective android. He’s _nervous_. Which is patently ridiculous. So Dean takes it upon himself to remind him of the fact. Dean’s actually kinda relieved that Cas isn’t the only one sweating under the bright studio lights, and it gives him the excuse he’s been hoping for since he was directed to the makeup chair. He scoots right up next to Cas on the deceptively uncomfortable couch while the rest of the crew ignores them and bustles around getting everything ready to tape their segment.

“Cas, you don’t have anything to be nervous about,” Dean whispers. “This isn’t any different than the interview with George yesterday, or with Kevin. You stand up every day and lecture rooms full of people. All we gotta do is talk to the nice lady over there and answer her questions. We’ll be fine, okay?”

“You’re right, Dean,” Cas says, continuing to fidget with the buttons on his suit jacket.

Dean pulls Cas’s hand away from his button before he can accidentally yank it off and holds it between both of his own, covertly rubbing little circles over his knuckles to try and help him calm down. They share a nervous little smile and Cas nods.

“Okay, guys, I think we’re about ready,” Sara says, taking a seat in the chair opposite them. “We decided to tape this like a conversation. We’ll edit it down after we’re finished to make it fit into the time we’re allotted at the end of the broadcast, so don’t worry if you mess anything up. We’re not broadcasting live, and I promise we’ll make you look good.”

She smiles kindly at them both and Dean reaches over to pat Cas’s thigh reassuringly. He leans in to whisper, “See? No different than yesterday, and she’s not even gonna make us do dramatic reenactments or anything.”

Cas takes a deep breath and smiles, looking a little more relaxed, and loosens his grip on Dean’s hand without letting go. Neither of them mentions the fact that both their hands have gone a little clammy.

Sarah starts the interview by reading out a little script she’d written up earlier as it scrolls along in a monitor next to the camera. She briefly recounts the cyberstalking and Cas’s abduction, their friends who convinced them to bring their case to the police, and a little bit of the history of how they met in the first place.

Dean glances over at Cas about half way through her two minute introduction with his eyes gone wide upon hearing their entire story summed up so succinctly. Cas gives him a crooked little smile and makes a surreptitious finger waggle around the news studio with his free hand, as if to remind Dean that as a news reporter, it’s her job to sum things up succinctly. Dean doesn’t care. He’s still impressed. He’s also starting to wonder why she felt the need to interview them at all if she’s already got the whole story. She finishes up with a description of the case as it stands, with Rowena in prison and Luke in a coma, his doctors debating whether to take him off life support, and then smiles over at Dean and Cas.

“First of all, Cas, how are you doing since the incident?”

Cas is startled by the sudden question after zoning out while listening to her recap the last week of his life. Dean gives Cas’s hand a brief squeeze and that’s all the reassurance he needs.

“I’m fine, thanks. Still getting occasional headaches, but I’ve been told that’s to be expected.”

She nods encouragingly, tells Cas how glad she is that he’s on the mend, and then goes on to ask Dean about his part in rescuing Cas. He sputters over his answer for a second and then downplays his part in the events, giving all the credit to Victor, Jody, and Donna for their roles in Cas’s rescue. It’s not until Sarah mentions the official court record of the incident highlighting the fact that Dean was the one who fired the shot that saved Cas that he puts an end to that line of questioning.

“You said this is being taped, right?” he asks, and Sarah flashes a concerned glance at the camera man, who nods and makes a keep-going gesture with his hand. “Yeah, I’d really rather not talk about that. Can you maybe cut that part?”

Sarah’s a little flustered for a second, but sifts through her notes, readjusts herself more comfortably in her chair, and smiles brightly. “That’s fine, I understand. It must have been traumatic for you. But there are a few things of a more personal nature that I’d like to talk about.” She sees both Dean and Cas closing off at the mention of _personal_ , and quickly clarifies, “About your blog.”

Cas nods warily, so she presses on.

“You two made some pretty big announcements to your followers last week. Congratulations, by the way.” She turns to address the audience at home through the camera and explains that Dean and Cas are now officially engaged, before turning back and asking, “So have you set a date?”

“We were thinking early summer, after I’m done with school,” Cas says.

Dean throws in, “Yeah, so we can have a proper honeymoon.”

Sarah giggles at Dean’s expression and then asks where they plan to go.

“We haven’t really thought about it yet,” Cas says, “other than perhaps somewhere with a beach. I guess we’ve got the whole world open to us.”

“Well, at least the parts we can drive to, if I get a say in it,” Dean adds.

“Of course you do,” Cas tells him.

Dean just grins at him and rubs Cas’s hand between both of his own before turning his smile on Sarah.

“And you’ve also announced a new project, now that you’ve come forward and revealed your identities on your blog and the struggle you’ve overcome with a cyberstalker, you’ve created an amazing resource for other victims to connect and support one another. Tell us a little more about that.”

Dean bristles a bit at being lumped in as a victim, but Cas smooths everything over, talking about their new blog like he’d been involved in planning it for months instead of learning about it almost by accident less than a day earlier.

Sarah and Cas spend another five minutes talking about what they hope to accomplish with the new site, with the occasional word or two from Dean, and then she wraps it up and the camera’s red light finally goes out. The guy behind the camera gives Sarah a thumbs up and then heads off in the direction of the coffee machine while the rest of the crew hustles off to take care of the next order of the business on the morning agenda.

“Well, thank you both very much for coming down here this early,” Sarah says, standing up and shaking each of their hands before checking her watch and then catching the eye of a passing crew member. “I’m sorry this took longer than expected, but I’ve got to get that twenty minute interview cut down to under four minutes, and we go to air in less than an hour. Is it okay if Abner here shows you out?”

“That’s fine,” Cas says. “Thank you again, and good luck with your editing.”

“If I’m lucky, my producer will let me cut a second segment together for the evening news. We’ve certainly got enough to work with,” she replies with a smile and a wave as she dashes off to her desk. “Thanks again, guys. It was great to meet you!”

 

Dean and Cas get home just in time to see themselves on the news. Dean had intended to just drop Cas off and then head straight to the garage, but like their interview, things don’t go according to plan.

“You’re already late, Dean,” Cas argues as they approach their neighborhood. “Why not come in for five minutes and see what Sarah decided to air?”

“That’s why. I’m _already_ late. If I come in the house, I’ll just be even later. We’re recording it anyway,” Dean says with a nervous little shrug. He knows the interview went fine, but he’s still not thrilled about the idea of actually _watching_ himself sweat in high definition. “I can watch it later. Or maybe never.”

“I don’t think you’re at risk of being fired for tardiness,” Cas says, ignoring Dean’s protest. “I promise to put in a good word with your boss. And I’d really like to watch it with you.”

Dean turns onto their street and risks a quick glance at Cas, and dammit, he should know better by now, but yet again he falls victim to the sad puppy look. He just shakes his head, pulls into their driveway, and shuts off the car.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

 

“Sarah’s producer must’ve been feeling generous,” Dean says as the segment concludes with Sarah telling viewers to tune in again that evening for the conclusion of their story.

“She did a good job, though,” Cas replies. “I know I’m not impartial to the subject matter, but she presented an entertaining story.”

Dean stands up from the couch and boggles down at Cas. “Entertaining. I guess that’s one way to put it, yeah.”

“If all of that hadn’t happened to _us_ , I would find it quite compelling.”

Dean considers that for a second and then shrugs. He leans down and kisses the top of Cas’s head. “I guess you’re right.”

With that, Dean puts it out of his mind and finally heads out to work. He calls Cas when he breaks for lunch to report that he decided not to fire himself for being late to work, but he did give himself a stern talking to about it. When Cas laughs at him for being ridiculous, Dean eventually admits that Krissy and Jo teasing him about the interview all morning probably constitutes a harsher punishment than he legitimately deserves.

 

They watch the second segment of their interview-- the one detailing the efforts of their new blog-- over dinner that evening. Five minutes after the segment ends, just as they’re clearing the table, the phone rings. Cas answers while Dean watches on curiously, his interest perking up when he realizes it’s Sarah on the other end of the line.

“Yes, Sarah, we did see it… Yes, thank you again… Yes… um, let me ask Dean…”

“Ask me what?” Dean replies, drying his hands off and crossing the room to Cas’s side.

“A producer on their national network wants to run our story tomorrow morning as part of a special series they’re doing this week.”

Dean can hear Sarah clarifying something for Cas, but he can’t make out her words. He watches Cas’s brow pinch together, and he doesn’t like that pinch one bit.

“What? What’s wrong, Cas?”

“If we agree to let them run the story nationally, we’d be invited to New York for a brunch to honor the five websites being featured on the daily segments this week.”

“Well, you know me. I’d never turn down free brunch. What’s the problem?”

“We’d have to fly to New York Friday afternoon,” Cas replies.

Dean’s eyes go wide and he just shakes his head, taking a few unconscious shuffling steps backward. Cas reaches out and rests a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder to stop him from getting too far.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, but I don’t think we’ll be able to make it to New York this weekend,” Cas replies, and then puts the phone on speaker so Dean can hear her reply, too.

“The network will cover all your expenses, the flight on Friday, the hotel Friday night, all your meals, and they’ll even throw in a per diem that will more than cover any incidentals,” she says, as if it were mere money keeping them from agreeing to the trip.

“That’s very generous,” Cas replies, “But Dean doesn’t fly, and I have to return to work on Monday. That wouldn’t leave us enough time to drive home after the luncheon.”

There’s a moment of dead silence on the line before Sarah finally responds to that. “Dean doesn’t fly?”

“Nope,” Dean says before this conversation can get out of control.

“As in, you’ve never been on a plane, or you’d never agree to get on a plane?” she asks after a considering pause.

“Uh, the second. Been on a plane once. Once was enough,” Dean says. “Huge metal tubes weren’t meant to go hurtling through the air. It’s just not natural.”

“Technically that’s exactly what they’re meant to do,” Cas mutters. “They’re purposely built to hurtle through the air.”

Dean elbows Cas in the side as Sarah snorts out a laugh.

“I guess you guys have had this discussion before?”

“It may have come up once or twice,” Cas says.

Dean ignores them both and barrels on. “I love New York almost as much as I love brunch, but I ain’t risking my life for steamship round and eggs Benedict in the Big Apple. Sorry.”

“Hmmm,” Sarah muses idly. “What _would_ you risk it for?”

“Excuse me?” Dean asks, wondering if he misheard the nice news lady and reconsidering if he needs to downgrade her classification from _not annoying_ again already.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Sorry. I’ll need to talk to a few people at the Early Show and see if we can work around it. We still have a few more days to smooth things over and try and get them to run your story in their New Year, New Heroes segment. It could mean a lot of publicity for your site, as well as potential financial backing. It’s worth considering. Can I get back to you tomorrow?”

Dean glares at the phone wondering what she might be plotting, but catches Cas’s puppy eyes again and sighs.

“Sure, fine.”

“We look forward to hearing back from you, Sarah,” Cas says, and hangs up. He doesn’t let go of Dean’s shoulder.

“Dude I am not getting on a plane just to sit around and listen to a bunch of starched network executives and excitable reporters blah blah about us being _heroes_ or whatever bullshit they think about us,” Dean says in a rush. “Seriously, no amount of champagne and shrimp cocktail is worth that.”

Cas just smiles and steps right up into Dean’s personal space. “I don’t expect you to get on a plane, Dean. To be honest, much as I’d enjoy traveling with you, I agree with your assessment of the event.”

Dean studies Cas’s reactions, and when he determines that Cas is being completely honest with him, he heaves a relieved sigh, closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against Cas’s.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why on earth would I be mad?” Cas asks, pulling back a little and sounding genuinely shocked.

Without opening his eyes, Dean shrugs. “Sarah’s right, it would be good publicity for the site. Maybe it could reach someone who didn’t know there was help for them out there. Seems kinda selfish of me right now.”

“Dean,” Cas says, using his free hand to lift Dean’s chin. “If they decide not to air the story because we won’t participate in their dog and pony show, that’s not on you.”

Dean makes one last half-hearted attempt at a shrug, but then blinks his eyes open to see Cas’s still-smiling face a few inches from his own. Cas smiles wider.

“Besides, Sarah said she was going to try to smooth things over. Who knows what might happen now. But it’s entirely up to them, and no matter what they decide to do, I’m not going to be upset about it.”

Dean’s so grateful he can’t check his urge to mash his face against Cas’s. When they finally come up for air, Cas has a practical suggestion that might satisfy everyone.

“You know, I should mention to Sarah that if they want to honor a couple of internet heroes, they should really invite Charlie and Ash to their banquet. We may have started the site, but they turned it into what it is now. Without them, we likely never would’ve been able to do any of this.”

Neither of them needs to mention the dual meaning of Cas’s words. Dean takes a steadying breath and nods, and then Cas pulls out of his phone and calls Sarah back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean ~~wriggles out of~~ _tactically avoids_ actually having to board a plane.

Over the next few days, an epic round of telephone tag ensues between Cas and Dean, Sarah, her contacts in New York, Charlie, and Ash. Plans are finally agreed upon and Sarah works some kind of magic with the footage from their interview with her that doesn’t even require them to come back and shoot any additional material. The new six minute long re-edited version airs from coast to coast on Friday morning, after which they experience a veritable flood of new followers, both on their regular blog and on their new site.

In the end, it’s Charlie and her girlfriend Gilda who end up taking the trip to New York, since Ash is in the middle of a secret project he refuses to discuss for a government agency he refuses to name and can’t take the time off. Charlie reports in to Dean by text throughout the shindig, as she calls it, and Dean’s only a little bit jealous of the spread he’s missing out on. He’s not at all jealous about the fact they made Charlie stand up in front of the whole crowd and give a little speech. It was bad enough sweating on camera in front of the two or three crew guys standing around in the shadows, let alone getting up in front of a room full of professional reporters where all his um’s and fidgeting can’t be edited out.

After watching Dean practically drool over the pictures Charlie covertly snapped of the buffet table and texted to him, Cas finally texts her back himself and politely asks her to stop tormenting Dean. Charlie replies that she’s got her reasons, and Dean could’ve been enjoying that dessert table himself if he’d only been man enough to get on the plane.

Cas sighs and then tells Charlie he gets that, but after watching Dean reduced to tears over an array of tiny colorful pastries, he thinks pushing the lesson any further for today would just be cruel. Charlie eventually relents, and feeling at least a little bit successful, sends Cas a selfie with her and Gilda raising champagne glasses in a toast.

Cas tries to text Charlie again, inquiring as to her reasons for picking at Dean’s no-fly policy when it’s too late for him to make the trip anyway, but Charlie just sends back the zipped lips emoji and a little winky face. He knows he’s not going to get a direct answer until Charlie’s ready to tell him. Rather than worry about it now, he does his best to enjoy his last two days of winter break.

Cas makes it his mission to console Dean with their own version of brunch, which Dean ends up agreeing is far superior to any brunch ever enjoyed in public, regardless of the dessert table some swanky New York City hotel has to offer, since their private version involves eating naked in bed. When Dean suggests they could’ve been eating toast and cold coffee and it would still be better, Cas makes noises like he’s about  to disagree with him. Dean changes his mind.

Charlie calls them Saturday afternoon from the cab on their way back to the airport. She couldn’t wait another few hours to fill them in on the biggest bit of news to come out of the event, desserts aside. Dean and Cas are still in bed, but Cas makes Dean answer the phone anyway.

“If she and Gilda hadn’t agreed to take our place, you would’ve been the one in the cab on the way to the airport right now. It’s only fair,” Cas says, pushing Dean off him and crossing his arms across his chest to block any further access to his person until Dean does the honorable thing.

Dean groans and puts the phone on speaker. Cas holds one arm out to him in welcome as a reward, and Dean gratefully burrows down against his side.

“Hey, Charlie. How’s the trip?”

“Amazing! Oh my god it was unbelievable. Gilda spent like half an hour talking to a literary agent who asked her to send one of her manuscripts in. He was in love with her story, and I think he may be a little in love with her, which I can’t really blame him for, but I saw her first, so.”

“Charlie,” Dean says, and Cas is shaking trying to hold in his laughter while she talks right over Dean. “Hey, Charlie!”

“What?”

“That’s great news about Gilda’s book.”

There’s silence on the line, but they can clearly hear Gilda laughing and telling Charlie to get to the point in the background, and Charlie passing on Dean’s congratulations.

“Thank you, Dean.” Gilda’s voice comes through all tinny and distant, nearly drowned out by the noise of the taxi and New York City traffic.

“Right,” Charlie says, regrouping to give it a second try. “The point. Sarah was at the luncheon too, and you’re right, she’s super nice in person.” Charlie stops to take a deep breath. “Still not the point. Sorry.”

“No rush,” Cas says. “You’ll get there in your own time.”

“It was a rather exciting morning.” Gilda’s faraway voice is a little stronger this time, like she’s leaning in close to hear the call now.

“She introduced me to a friend of hers, and they’ve been hashing out the details, and nothing’s set in stone yet, but they think it would be a great idea, and they’re just waiting to see if the network goes for it, but if they do, this could be the chance of a lifetime. I mean we couldn’t pass this up even if you hate flying, Dean.”

Dean had been bemusedly enjoying Charlie’s excited rambling right up until she mentioned the flying thing, and suddenly it’s not quite so enjoyable anymore. He very cautiously asks, “What can’t we pass up?”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone yet,” Charlie says.

“That shouldn’t be too hard, since I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean replies.

“Promise you won’t say a word. Swear by your pretty floral bonnet you won’t tell a soul.”

Dean rolls his eyes, and Cas just raises an eyebrow waiting for Dean to reply. “I swear by my pretty floral bonnet that I won’t tell a soul.”

“You too, Cas.”

“I also swear by Dean’s pretty floral bonnet.”

Charlie considers that for a second. “Good enough. Okay. Sarah’s friend is a producer on the Amazing Race, and they’re always looking for new twists for the show. They’ve never done a race where all the teams were friends before the start of the race, and they’ve been looking for a way to make that happen for a while now. I mean, it’s one thing to have a bunch of strangers backstabbing their way around the world, but friends?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean cuts her off. “Around the world. That sounds like it would involve _multiple_ plane flights. So why is this a thing I’d want to do?”

“Because they give the winner a million bucks?” Charlie asks timidly.

That amount of money gives Dean pause.

“I guess that’s what Sarah meant when she asked what it would take to get you on a plane,” Cas replies.

Charlie goes on before Dean has a chance to shut her down entirely.

“They know how all your friends came together to support you guys, and how you started the website to pay it forward. They want _all_ of us to do the race, to see if we’ll still stick together, or if the prize money’s a big enough incentive to drive wedges, or whatever.”

“May as well tell them the rest while they’re too gobsmacked to turn you down cold,” Gilda prods.

“Right,” Charlie says, and clears her throat. “They also may have heard about some of the tentative details of your wedding plans and they might want to work that into the show.”

“They want to work our _wedding_ into a tv show?” Cas asks, incredulous.

“They do know it’s gonna be a backyard barbecue, right?” Dean asks. “Not some fancy catered thing with monkey suits and prom dresses and sparkly shit.”

“I don’t think they care, Dean,” Charlie replies. “They think the whole romance novel story of how you guys met, fell in love, survived a horrifying ordeal, and then turned around and did something to help others is inspiring.”

“We didn’t even do that last part,” Dean says, trying to push all the credit off himself. “That’s all you and Ash.”

“But we did it because of you. It was your idea, we just sort of ran with it,” Charlie answers simply. “That’s part of the reason they want all of us to do this. They’re impressed by the lengths we go to for each other.”

“And now you want us to go to this impressive length for you,” Cas concludes, turning to Dean with a deadly squint, challenging him to deny Charlie’s request.

Dean sighs. “Fine, yeah. I get it, okay? I’ll think about it.”

Charlie squeals with delight, but it’s the ecstatic look that flashes across Cas’s face that convinces Dean he’d said the right thing.

“Just tell me there’s a beach somewhere on this trip,” Dean finally says. “I promised Cas one of those coconut drinks on our honeymoon.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Charlie says seriously. “Sarah said she’d be back in touch with all of us in a few days. Just be nice to her, okay? Don’t ruin this for the rest of us.”

“Hey, who’s _the rest of us,_ anyway?” Dean asks, but he can hear the traffic noise double as Charlie steps out of the cab at the airport.

“Sorry, Dean. Can’t hear you. I’ll send you an email with everything I know when I get home tonight. Bye!”

And then she hangs up on a sputtering Dean.

“She has excellent timing,” Cas marvels, as Dean slowly turns his distressed and disbelieving stare from the phone to Cas’s face. Cas smiles fondly at him and takes the phone from Dean, setting it on the nightstand before redirecting Dean back to where they’d been before the phone rang. Dean quickly forgets all about airplanes and airports in favor of an entirely different sort of flying.

 

Thus begins an incredibly long and complicated series of negotiations. First comes Cas’s gentle yet relentless persuasion to convince Dean to even participate in the negotiations, secured after a series of strategic surprise blow jobs leave Dean too content to argue anymore.

Charlie’s explanatory email also helps, detailing what would be expected of them all during the race. Between Charlie’s descriptions and Cas encouraging Dean to actually watch a few episodes of the show, he grudgingly agrees that, aside from all the airplanes, it looks like it has the potential to be at least a little bit fun. Until one challenge comes up that Dean flat out refuses to even watch.

“Fuck no,” he says, getting up from the couch and storming to the kitchen for a beer as one member of each team is required to make a tandem skydive to get their next clue. “There is no way in hell I’m _jumping out_ of a perfectly good plane.”

“So planes _aren’t_ abominations against nature now?” Cas calls out from the living room, still engrossed in the program.

Dean leans against the counter clutching the cold bottle to his chest and yells back, “Not when the alternative is trusting your life to twenty square yards of nylon and a couple of pieces of string, no.”

Cas chuckles softly. When everyone’s safely back on the ground he yells out an all clear and Dean slumps back to the couch.

“You didn’t have any trouble watching Patrick Swayze jump out of a plane in that awful movie.” Cas pauses the show so they don’t miss the next clue.

“But that was Swayze. And it was a _movie_. You know, _make believe._ They might make us do that shit for real.” Dean jabs an accusatory finger at the tv screen.

Cas just shrugs. “I don’t mind doing those challenges, but I can only do half of the Roadblocks. You’ll probably have to do something you’d rather not at some point. We both will.”

Dean’s still working his way through his long list of reasons to turn down the offer, but Cas has slowly chipped away at it all weekend. About the only objection Dean’s got left is the one he’d started with in the first place. He crosses his arms and slouches down into the couch cushions.

 “I’d rather not spend a month living out of airplanes.”

Cas reaches over and pats Dean’s knee. He’s learned that it’s best to let Dean work through these things in his own time, and doesn’t push. “I know, and I appreciate that.”

Cas unpauses the tv and they both fall back into the quick pace of the episode as the competitors pull some shady stunts in order to get to the mat in first place. When the host greets the first team at the checkpoint, he tells them that for finishing in first place they’ve won a vacation to Hawaii. This has Dean sitting up and paying attention. He’d promised Cas a real honeymoon, nothing but sitting together on the sand and watching the tide go in and out while scantily clad people bring them fancy drinks in hollowed-out fruit decorated with flowers and little paper umbrellas. The race sounds like it misses that mark by about 30,000 miles, but hey, if it helps him get over his fear of flying, then maybe a trip to Hawaii wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for him.

“Wait, so the winner of every leg _also_ gets a prize?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“So even if we don’t win the million bucks, we’ve still got a half decent shot of winning ourselves a proper honeymoon?”

Cas considers Dean’s off-the-wall logic, but then concedes the point. “I suppose you could look at it that way.”

“Okay then,” Dean says, and then takes a huge breath. After all, this does seem like one of those potentially life-altering, huge-breath-taking kinds of moments. Maybe not as significant as the one that led him to meeting Cas in the first place, but still, he’s facing a life-long fear, here. And he’s doing it for Cas, and with Cas, not to mention all their closest family and friends. If he says no, they all lose the chance to do it, and he can’t let that many people down all at once. But mostly, he won’t let Cas down. “All right. I’ll do it.”

 

A huge packet arrives from the network on the Friday before Dean’s birthday. Once they sign the papers agreeing to appear on the show, and a whole stack of other legal releases-- and Cas is relieved to be able to hide the standard liability waiver form absolving the network from responsibility should they be injured or actually _die_ on the race amid the huge stack of less threatening sounding documents so that Dean doesn’t have a chance to really read it and nope out again before he signs-- the real planning begins.

The wedding planning, that is.

The producers of the show advised them that they’ll probably want to plan their actual wedding with all their friends and family in attendance before filming begins. They want to film a staged “show version” of the ceremony with only the people who will be coming on the race to use as a sort of meet the contestants segment at the beginning of the first episode, without a bunch of extraneous people standing around to confuse the viewers. Dean just rolls his eyes and decides it doesn’t really matter. They’ll get married for real one day earlier than they’d planned, then film their fake wedding on Saturday, before starting the race on Sunday.

Dean and Cas leave the staged wedding plans entirely up to Charlie and, strangely enough, Sarah. She’s earned herself a producer spot on the special version of the race, which they’re tentatively calling _The Amazing Honeymoon_. Their real wedding is the one that actually matters to Dean and Cas, though, and even Sam and Jess back off trying to offer them helpful planning suggestions once they’re also officially invited to join them on the race.

“A boring wedding reception is a small burden to bear in exchange for an all expenses paid trip around the world,” Jess tells Dean at his birthday dinner, which has also been extended into an impromptu meeting of nearly everyone they’ve decided to invite on the race.

“Right?” Krissy agrees. “Now _that_ is the kind of party favor I can wholeheartedly endorse.”

Dean lobs a garlic roll at her and goes back to poking grumpily at his lasagne.

“Hey,” Krissy says, chucking the roll back at Dean’s head.

Dean swats it out of the air and it lands in Benny’s wine glass. “It’s not polite to throw a man’s birthday dinner in his face.”

Benny picks up his glass and studies the slowly sinking roll. “Or in the chef’s wine. I don’t know if I can trust either of you with birthday cake.”

“As long as it’s not still on fire when you serve it to them, I don’t mind,” Cas says.

Benny mutters something about crazy aunts until Andrea plucks his defiled wine glass out of his hand and swaps it out with hers, then gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder while he polishes it off.

 

The next few months pass in a blur. Cas frantically tries to finish up his thesis while gradually taking on more and more duties teaching in preparation for becoming a full-time professor in the fall. Dean’s working just as hard at the garage, finishing every commissioned restoration job before all but closing his shop down for the entire month of June. He’ll still have a mechanic or two on duty to handle emergencies for their regular customers, and he’s hired Sam’s friend Garth to man the office while they’re gone, but the majority of his employees will be coming along for the trip.

There’s passports and international visas to apply for, travel gear to buy, and a ridiculously long checklist to run through covering everything from scheduling their bills to be paid a month in advance to making sure they don’t forget to pack their toothbrushes.

There’s also the matter of managing both their personal blog and The Hive, which is what they eventually decided to name their new site. With both Charlie and Ash coming along too, Cas suggests they leave it in the hands of Kevin Tran. He’s almost as scary with a computer as Charlie is, and he’s been a regular contributor to The Hive since it started.

The tv network doesn’t want them to post anything about the race until after each episode airs, but agree they’re allowed to mention why their personal blog is going dark for a month. With Sarah’s help, they write a network-approved summary of why they’ll be gone and then schedule it to post the day after they leave.

That only leaves them one more major post to make before they go; a wedding announcement.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the only thing Dean would like is five freaking minutes alone with Cas (spoiler alert, he eventually gets it after many tribulations).

The first Friday in June, Dean gives all his employees the day off and closes the shop. He goes in that morning anyway just to make sure everything’s in order since he won’t be back for almost a month. Cas goes with him to make sure Dean doesn’t end up sulking in his office or attempt to start a new project when they’re supposed to be getting married in a few hours.

They’ve got a house full of guests, with not only Dean’s uncle Bobby and his business partner Rufus in town, but also Cas’s brother Gabriel and his girlfriend Kali, who at least volunteered to get a hotel room so Bobby and Rufus wouldn’t be forced to share Dean’s old room that had been converted into Cas’s office. It sounded good on paper, having everyone just stay with them for the two days leading up to the race, but in reality Dean wishes he and Cas could have one last night of peace and quiet. It is their wedding night, after all.

After making lunch for their house guests as well as Sam and Jess, who drop by a few hours early to visit with Bobby, Dean and Cas head up to their room to get dressed for the ceremony. Even though they’re just driving to the courthouse and then driving right back home to hang out in their own back yard, it seemed weird not to put at least a little effort into dressing up for the occasion.

Dean tries to take advantage of Cas’s state of undress the minute he pulls off the t-shirt and jeans he’s been wearing all day, sliding up behind Cas and wrapping his arms around his waist and dropping kisses along his shoulders and neck. Cas sighs and turns in Dean’s arms.

“You know we’re on a schedule, right?” Cas asks, trying to keep Dean on task by unfastening his jeans.

Cas realizes his mistake when Dean groans and dives in for a kiss, pulling Cas even closer. Cas gives in for a minute, but then pushes Dean away.

“There are people waiting for us downstairs,” Cas reminds him.

It’s enough to snap Dean back to reality, and for the sounds of the world outside their door to come rushing back. He can hear the growing ruckus of their house guests and other friends arriving, and groans.

“Why’d we invite them all here again?” Dean asks, stealing one last kiss before letting Cas go to put on his suit. “We’re gonna be stuck with all of them for a month. We should’ve at least kicked them out for the wedding night.”

“We can still do that,” Cas says matter of factly while he buttons up his crisp white shirt. “I don’t think any of them would mind staying at a hotel one day earlier than they’d planned to.”

Dean puts on his new suit, bought just for the occasion since he doesn’t usually have a need to wear dressy clothes in his line of work, and stands in front of the mirror to tie the deep green tie Cas picked out for him. Cas insists it brings out Dean’s eyes, and the thought makes Dean smile when he sees Cas struggling with his own dark blue tie out of the corner of his eye.

“C’mere, Cas. Lemme do that for ya,” Dean says, turning Cas by his shoulders and then pushing his hands out of the way.

Dean sneaks the occasional glance away from his work to admire the stunned wonder in Cas’s eyes. On his third glance up, Cas catches him looking, and smiles.

“We’re going to be married in an hour, Dean,” he says quietly.

“We sure are,” Dean replies, smoothing one hand down Cas’s chest as he finishes, and then pulls Cas in by his tie for another kiss, mostly to hide the stupid grin he can’t keep off his face. He doesn’t mind having to straighten the tie out one more time.

The noise from downstairs is growing ever more restless, and louder by the minute as even more guests arrive.

“We shouldn’t kick them all out tonight just so we can have some privacy,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean was kind of hoping Cas had been serious about that particular offer, and he can hear the disappointment in his own voice in that single word.

Cas shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “We should kick ourselves out. Go stay at a hotel. A fancy one.”

Dean considers that for a moment. “We’re gonna be living out of hotels and motels and tents and shit for a whole month. Don’t you want one last night in our own bed?”

“Our bed will forgive us for abandoning it on our wedding night. I’d rather have one last night alone with you,” Cas says, straightening Dean’s tie and then leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You hear them downstairs? We’re going to be stuck with all of them _for a month_. We may not get an awful lot of time alone.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and wills his knees to stop wobbling while Cas is rumbling those words into his ear. Their distinct lack of alone-ness is seriously putting a crimp in his newly-revised priorities list, especially when Sam pounds on their door and demands to know if they’re ready to go yet.

“Yeah,” Dean says, the word cracking and barely audible. He clears his throat and forces himself to take a half-step back from Cas, and then says, louder, “Jesus, Samantha. Give it a rest. We’re almost ready. Have a little patience.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Sure, Dean,” Sam says through the door. “We’ve all been patiently standing in the living room for fifteen minutes. Everyone took a vote and I lost, so I’m here to make sure you’re both actually wearing clothes and haven’t forgotten you’ve got a house full of people waiting on you.”

“We’re not…” Dean starts, then tries again. “We’re almost fucking ready, Sam. Just two minutes.”

“That’ll be a record,” they hear Sam mutter, and then they hear him stomp loudly down the stairs.

Cas is grinning, though, so Dean decides he doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks they’ve been doing all this time. It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, anyway. Instead of worrying about it, Dean uses his two minutes as wisely as he can and gives Cas an enthusiastic kiss.

“Oh my god,” Cas practically shouts, suddenly jumping backward and rummaging through his pockets for his phone. “We need to take a picture.”

“We do look kinda hot,” Dean agrees, straightening out his coat and tie.

He lets Cas manhandle him into position, standing in the middle of their room, and then Cas sidles up next to him and points the camera at their feet. It’s only then that Dean realizes what he’s up to.

“Wait, no,” Dean says, dropping to the floor and pulling Cas down by his hand. “Gotta do this right.”

Cas snorts but complies, letting Dean tangle their feet together despite still wearing their dress shoes. Before he snaps their traditional foot selfie, Cas grabs Dean’s hand, temporarily naked of its familiar ring, and holds it up in the center of the frame.

“This is the ‘before’ picture,” Cas says, helping Dean to his feet when they’re finished. “We’ll take another after.”

Dean, Cas, Charlie, Gilda, and Bobby all pile into the Impala to lead the procession of cars down to the courthouse. It’s not a terribly long drive, but Cas spends most of it fiddling with something on his phone. Dean’s too nervous and too busy focusing on the road to pay much attention to him, and their back seat passengers don’t even question it when Dean pops in a Metallica tape and starts humming along.

By the time they pull into the parking lot at the courthouse, Cas has set his phone down on his lap and is quietly grinning at Dean. They let the others get out first and Cas holds Dean back for a few seconds to show him what he’d been busy with on his phone. It takes Dean a second to figure out what he’s looking at when Cas starts flipping through photographs of a hotel room and then pulls up a confirmation email, and then he gets it. He leans over and grabs Cas by the back of his neck and pulls him in for another kiss. It’s getting ridiculous, but Dean’s happy and dammit he’s not gonna stop himself from proving it to Cas on their wedding day. Even when Sam starts banging on the car window.

“Give it a rest, sasquatch. We still got about ten minutes to kill,” Dean says, glancing at the dashboard clock. He’s about to dive in for another kiss when he catches the look on Cas’s face.

“I think we’d best get out of the car now,” Cas says, turning a funny shade of pink.

Dean looks over his shoulder, and then has to turn the rest of the way around. There are faces of their loved ones squeezed together at every single window of the car, peering in at them impatiently.

“I’d do what he says, Deano,” Cas’s brother Gabriel says. “It’s like thirty against two out here. I think we win.”

“Strength in numbers,” Kevin says, opening Dean’s door and creating a gap in the crowd for Dean and Cas to step through.

Dean leans in one last time to mumble his gratitude for Cas booking them a room away from all these freaks. Now all he has to do is hold out for another six or seven hours before they can fully appreciate the privacy.

Exactly as Dean had predicted, they end up having to stand around waiting until their scheduled appointment time with the judge. The court clerk takes one look at the size of their party, crammed into her office and spilling out into the hallway beyond, and suggests they hold the ceremony outside on the front lawn, because the tiny room where they usually hold ceremonies is nowhere near big enough to hold everyone.

Twenty minutes after being shamed out of the front seat of their own car, Dean and Cas are finally shaking hands with the judge just outside the front doors of the courthouse. The ceremony itself takes far less time than that. It actually takes longer for Dean and Cas to sign the license, and then Sam and Gabriel to sign as witnesses, then it does for them to get through their actual vows, since no one thought to have have a table at the ready and they have to use each other’s backs as impromptu writing desks.

Dean experiences one moment of sheer terror where he thinks he’s dropped Cas’s ring in the grass during the signing debacle, but after frantically patting himself down he finds it still safely tucked into his pocket.

While Cas is staring into Dean’s eyes and carefully listening to the judge rattle off the vows he’s expected to repeat, someone in the gathered crowd sneezes and Cas about jumps out of his shoes in surprise.

They eventually make it through their vows and the judge finally proclaims them married, and instructs them to kiss.

Someone in the crowd groans and mutters, “Please don’t encourage them.”

Ellen doesn’t bother waiting for them to break apart before pulling out a couple bottles of champagne. She hands one to Bobby to open, while Jo passes out bathroom-size Dixie cups as Ellen and Bobby follow behind her pouring just enough into each cup for a toast. Even the judge accepts one.

They still practically have to pull Cas and Dean apart to hand them their cups, and then Sam’s yelling congratulations, and everyone’s cheering, and the next thing they know they’re back in the car and on their way home again.

“Did that just happen?” Cas finally breaks the silence that’s been filling the car for the last three miles.

Charlie snorts in the back seat and then leans forward between them. “That’s definitely the weirdest wedding I’ve ever been to. Yet.”

Something about how she says it makes Dean squirm a little. “Yet? And our wedding wasn’t weird,” he insists.

“We’ve still got tomorrow,” Charlie reminds him. “That’ll be pretty weird. Cameras all over the place, everyone getting pulled aside for team interviews. You’ll probably have to get fake married like a dozen times before it’s all over.”

Dean shrugs and grabs Cas’s hand, and runs his thumb across the little bee on Cas’s ring. “As long as the tv people are paying to cater it, I’ll get fake married to Cas all day long.”

“You say that now,” Charlie says ominously, sitting back in her seat.

“At least we talked you out of making us all wear our Moondoor gear,” Dean replies.

“So you’d really rather wear that monkey suit all day than your handmaiden armor?”

Dean answers very carefully. It wouldn’t do to upset the queen. “Cas hasn’t had a chance to finish up his armor yet. We promise, first Moondoor weekend after we get home, you can preside over our official Moondoor nuptials.”

Charlie considers that and then relents. “Fine, but I’m still presiding over tomorrow’s nuptials, so I expect you both to comport yourselves with the dignity of your Moondoor ranks.”

Cas snorts and Dean squeezes his hand.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, your majesty.”

Bobby stares out the window and mutters _idjits_ under his breath.

 

Sam insists on sending Dean and Cas to get changed separately, muttering something about how they’d all starve to death waiting for them if they were allowed to be naked in the same room at the same time. Dean grudgingly admits Sam’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Since he’s manning the grill, he dashes upstairs to get changed first while Sam bodily blocks the way to the stairs as Cas stands in front of him, waiting impatiently.

“You know I can control my urges, Sam, you don’t have to stand sentry.”

Sam assesses Cas’s grumpy demeanor and relents. A little bit. “Yeah, I probably don’t need to stand here, do I?” But he doesn’t move an inch.

Cas narrows his eyes. “We’re leaving here at seven o’clock. No later.”

This is news to Sam. “What? You can’t leave your own wedding reception early!”

“That’s five hours from now,” Cas points out. “That’s more than enough time to satisfy our guests, but we are having a proper wedding night. Just promise you won’t let everyone destroy the house once we leave. The film crew will be here at noon. We promise to be back before then.”

This bit of news actually seems to please Sam, and when Dean bounds down the stairs a minute later dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt, Sam pulls him into a crushing hug.

“Congrats, man. I’m so happy for you,” Sam says, and then reaches out one yeti arm and pulls Cas into the embrace. “For both of you.”

“Yeah, well, you got a funny way of showing it,” Dean says, fighting back a couple of unwanted emotions and practically gasping for breath with his face smashed into Sam’s shoulder. “You trying to suffocate us?”

“Right, sorry,” Sam says, letting them go and grinning like a dope.

Dean catches sight of Cas, all rumpled from Sam’s hug, and can’t resist rumpling him a little more.

“There’s my husband,” he says, and revels in the delight radiating off of Cas as he pulls him in for a kiss.

Sam lets them go at it for a few minutes before loudly clearing his throat and pushing Dean out toward the deck. “Starving people. Big party. Make food. You can be as gross as you want in five hours,” he says, directing Cas toward the stairs for his turn changing.

The party itself goes exactly the way Dean and Cas hoped it would. All of their friends and family having a great time, lots of good food, and absolutely no wedding frou frou. At least not until dessert is served.

Yes, Dean gets his pie, but he also gets a slice of the wedding cake Charlie ordered for the occasion. The filling between the layers is practically dripping with honey and blackberries, and the entire thing is covered in white chocolate mousse and even more berries. Dean will never tell a soul, but he thinks he might like it better than his own honey pecan pie.

Someone even thought to smuggle a dozen pink frosted donuts onto the dessert table as a joke. Cas bribes Sam to take a picture of him down on one knee offering Dean one of the donuts, and then they have to retell the whole story behind their first anonymous correspondence for everyone in the crowd who hadn’t already heard it.

At ten minutes to seven, Cas finds Dean sitting in a corner of the yard having a beer with Bobby, mutually worrying about what’s going to happen to their respective businesses while they’re away. He politely disengages Dean with the reminder they’ll be back in twelve hours, and he’ll have plenty more time to talk with everyone over the next month.

“I guess that’s my cue, then,” Dean says, standing up and reaching a hand down to Bobby.

Bobby knocks his hand away and gets up to enfold Dean in a hug. “I’m proud of you, son. You’ve built a great life for yourself and Cas. You done good.”

Dean has to fight with his feelings yet again, and can only mutter, “What, I don’t even get an ‘idjit?’”

“Not today,” Bobby replies, and then lets Cas drag Dean away.

They make the rounds one last time, spending a few extra minutes with everyone who won’t be back tomorrow. Miraculously, they’re out the front door and sitting in the relative quiet of Baby’s front seat exactly ten minutes later.

“So that’s it,” Dean says, starting up the car. “You know we forgot to take the ‘after’ picture.”

Cas grins and pulls out his phone, sliding right up next to Dean and wrapping his legs around Dean’s ankles, making sure to get their hands with their rings clearly visible and their feet tangled together in the shot.

“It’s only fitting our first ‘after’ picture includes your Baby. But you do realize that every picture from now on will be an ‘after’ picture?”

That thought has Dean grinning and leaning in to Cas for another kiss. He has no idea how long they’ve been sitting there in the driveway when someone knocks on his window. Again.

“Dammit, when are we gonna have five minutes of privacy?” Dean grumbles, rolling down his window and turning to glare at whoever dared intrude on them this time.

It’s Sam again, of course.

“Dude, you can have as much privacy as you want when you get to your hotel. And we gave you six minutes before they made me come over here to force you to leave already.” Sam stands back so Dean can see Jess, Charlie, Gilda, Jo, and Krissy standing on the front porch waving them off.

Jess shouts out, “Don’t listen to him, Dean. We didn’t make him do anything. The interrupting moose shtick is all Sam.”

Cas bursts out laughing and Dean just keeps glaring at his brother.

“Glaring at me won’t get you in his pants any faster,” Sam reminds him coolly, and Dean throws the car in reverse and finally backs out of the driveway.

The hotel Cas booked is only a few miles from their house. It might be considered fancy by Lawrence, Kansas standards, but it’s certainly no five star hotel. Not that it matters to Dean in the least.

“If we’d had more time, I would’ve found us something a little more extravagant,” Cas says after they’ve checked in and are navigating the hallways toward their room.

“I don’t need extravagant,” Dean says, finding their door and fiddling with the electronic card key lock. “I just need you.”

It takes three tries, but Dean finally inserts the key card _just so_ and the unlock light turns green. He pushes the door open and then his feet are swept out from under him and Cas has one arm beneath his shoulders, but Dean can’t help flailing a little bit, feet scrambling in the air in search of the ground, and the next thing they know they’re both lying on the floor in a tangled heap and the door is clicking shut again of its own volition. Dean and Cas stare at each other for a second or two, eyes bugged out in confusion.

“I think I may have miscalculated the timing of that maneuver,” Cas says.

Dean stares at him a second longer and then bursts out laughing, twisting around to tackle his husband the rest of the way to the floor.

“Dude, were you trying to carry me across the threshold?” he says when he can finally catch his breath.

Cas is laughing now, too. “You did the exact same thing to me once. I wasn’t expecting you to react like an angry cat.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Wanna try again?”

“Not particularly, no,” Cas says, as Dean climbs off of him and helps him to his feet.

“Quitter,” Dean says, grinning at Cas in challenge.

They end up having to use Cas’s key card to get into their room, because Dean dropped his inside the door before it shut and relocked itself. This time, Dean carefully puts the card in his pocket, props the door open with the small overnight bag they brought with them, and then stands at the ready with his arms open wide.

Now that he’s expecting it, it’s not terrifyingly disconcerting when Cas hoists him off the ground and carries him into the room. Cas kicks their bag ahead of him, and this time when the door swings shut they’re on the proper side of it.

Cas stands in the entryway while Dean gropes along the wall in the dark in search of a light switch.

“Shit, where the fuck did they put it? Mars?” Dean grumbles, reaching as far as he can until he almost squirms out of Cas’s arms again, and Cas has to take a stumbling step to rebalance himself and keep from dropping him. Dean’s not exactly petite, and Cas is beginning to feel the strain the longer Dean wiggles around.

“Dean, I don’t care about the lights right now.”

“Mmm? Really?”

Dean stops fondling the wall and turns all his attention to fondling Cas, running one hand across his cheek and then down his neck. Cas sucks in a breath and lets himself fall back against the wall. And then groans in pain.

“I think I found the light switch.”

He finally lets Dean’s feet drop to the floor but doesn’t let him go entirely. Dean gently massages the tender spot on Cas’s back while he reaches behind himself to flick on the lights, and they finally get a look at their room.

“Not bad,” Dean says, bending down to pick up their bag and toss it onto the king size bed.

“I didn’t get us a room to admire the decor,” Cas says, tugging Dean further into the room, sliding his hands up under the back of Dean’s t-shirt and pulling Dean’s body tight against his.

Dean lets Cas lead the way, perfectly happy to go along with Cas’s agenda for the evening. He’s primarily enjoying looking into Cas’s eyes and seeing his own happiness reflected back at him. Cas’s warm hands roam up his back, dragging his shirt up toward his shoulders and sending a shiver down his spine.

“Off,” Cas orders, tugging at his shirt.

Dean grins at him, and then disobediently leans in for a kiss before moving far enough away to pull off his shirt. Before Cas can get his hands back on him, Dean bends down to remove his boots. When he stands back up, he pulls the same game on Cas, running his hands around his waist beneath his shirt and up toward his shoulders. Cas lifts his arms without being asked so Dean can pull his shirt all the way off.

With that much skin exposed, any notion of an agenda goes out the window. Dean crushes Cas against him and tries to pick up right where they left off in the car while Cas tries to retain just enough control to shuffle them toward the bed.

They hit the edge of the mattress sideways and Dean uses their momentum to twist around so Cas lands on his back. He lets out a victorious laugh as he balances himself over Cas’s waist on his knees, and then slowly slides down leaving a trail of damp kisses all the way to Cas’s belt.

Cas arches up to meet his mouth, rumbling a happy little noise and clutching at Dean’s shoulders. The noise turns into a growl when Dean sits back on his heels and slips out of Cas’s grasp, but turns happy again when Dean reaches for his belt.

The rest of their clothes end up tossed around the room in short order, and Cas scrambles up the bed pushing the covers down as he goes. Dean crawls up behind him, grabbing him around the waist and pressing kisses up his spine until he’s nuzzling along the nape of Cas’s neck and pulling him up into his lap. One hand brushes over Cas’s nipple, and that has Cas craning around in search of another kiss.

“Mmm, you should turn around if you wanna kiss me so bad,” Dean says, rocking his hips up to grind his erection against Cas and reaching down with one hand to grasp Cas’s hardening cock, which has Cas pressing his hips back against Dean in retaliation.

“I don’t know what I want,” Cas growls out as he slides off Dean’s lap and twists around, straddling Dean’s thighs so he can press himself against Dean from shoulders to groin.

Dean holds tight to Cas, pinning him in place, leaving just enough room for Cas to roll his hips languidly against Dean’s. The friction is a blessed relief at first and takes some of the frantic edge off his need, allowing Dean to finally get that uninterrupted kiss.

When they pull apart gasping for breath, Cas keeps up the gentle rocking that’s suddenly nowhere near enough.

“Do you know what you want now?” Dean asks, leaving a trail of kisses along the side of Cas’s neck.

“Hnnng, everything,” Cas blurts out, his head lolling back to give Dean more room to work. “All of it. You.”

Dean laughs and gently nips at Cas’s jaw. “Yeah, you already got all of me, remember? The whole _as long as you both shall live_ deal?”

Cas slides his hands from where he’s gripping Dean’s back and shoulder to his face, and gently pushes Dean’s head back so they’re eye to eye. Dean’s never seen this particular look on Cas’s face, but he hopes like hell he’ll get to see it again. It’s pure love and tenderness and wonder and relief and excitement and lust and love. Dean wonders if he’s got a similar look on his face, because this is Cas looking at him like this, and Cas is never gonna leave him again, and he _wants_ to be with Dean forever, and it’s all real, and they’re fucking _married_ now, and technically this is their honeymoon, and there’s nowhere else in the word Dean would rather be. And then Cas brushes his thumb across Dean’s cheek and they’re gone again, lost in a press of lips and tongues.

The next time they stop for air, they’ve shifted around so they’re lying on their sides across the huge bed, wrapped around each other.  The small overnight bag Cas threw the absolute necessities into before fleeing their house is just out of reach at the foot of the bed. Dean tears his eyes away from Cas to judge whether or not he can reach it with his foot. It seems doable, so he stretches out and snags the handle with his toe, then drags it up within easy reach. He’s fumbling with the zipper with one hand while still trying to keep kissing Cas, and borderline failing at both.

“Fuck me, husband,” Cas says when Dean gives up kissing long enough to slide the zipper open.

“Is that an order?” Dean asks, finding the bottle of lube and then shoving the bag over the edge of the bed and out of their way. He turns back to Cas, feeling practically giddy as he tacks on, “Husband?”

Cas shrugs one shoulder. “Since I intend to fuck you in the shower tomorrow morning, it seems equitable.”

Dean pauses at that, the serious look on Cas’s face and the promise in his voice sending a shiver down his spine. He closes his eyes to let that sink in for a second, and then nods. “Oh, hell yes.”

Cas kisses him slow and deep, and eventually draws Dean’s attention back to the bottle still clutched in his fist.

“Impatient, Cas?”

“No, we have all night. Go slow.”

Dean does.

He takes his time, paying attention to every spot that drives Cas crazy while he gets him ready, gradually reducing his husband to a quivering, grasping puddle of need. By the time Dean’s done with him, Cas is tugging frantically at his hair and Dean’s pulling out his fingers and lining himself up. He stops, propped up on one arm over Cas, over his husband, and looks down into that beautiful face.

“God, I love you Cas. I still can’t believe you married me.”

Cas had looked like he was about to complain that Dean had stopped, but that has him grinning and reaching up for Dean’s face. “I love you too, Dean.”

Cas pulls him down for a kiss as Dean slides inside him, and it’s as if they’ve completed a circuit. Dean tries to keep the pace slow like Cas asked, but it’s too much, and Cas is urging him on with frantic kisses.

Dean breaks the kiss so he can reach down and stroke Cas in time with his thrusts. Cas gazes up at him, biting his lip, until his eyes roll back and his mouth drops open and he’s coming. Dean follows him a moment later with his husband’s name on his lips as every nerve in his body lights up in ecstasy.

He collapses onto Cas’s chest and gulps down breaths as his pulse slows. Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair and still has his legs locked around his waist so Dean’s not going anywhere any time soon. He doesn’t even care that the drying come between them is slowly gluing them together. If he could, he’d be purring like a contented cat.

“It’s probably gonna be a while before we can do this again,” Dean eventually says

He feels Cas shrug, but he doesn’t stop petting Dean’s hair or loosen his grip.

“Perhaps.”

Dean finally lifts his head so he can give Cas a sweet, tender kiss.

“What, you think we’re gonna get any privacy at all on this trip?”

“I don’t think we’re going to be camping out on the floor of train stations in remote African villages every night, no,” Cas replies. “We do have pit stops where we’ll have our own room for the night.”

“Yeah. But only about every three days or so.”

Cas laughs at him. “Don’t look so horrified, Dean. We’ll probably be together so much you might actually get sick of me after a while. It’s one thing to come home to you every night, but spending all day every day for a month with me might make you wish for a little time apart.”

“Bite your tongue,” Dean says, horrified, and then kisses Cas again. “You know, that’s one of the reasons I agreed to put myself through this hell, so I’d have an excuse to spend so much time with you.”

Cas nods sagely. “Of course. Being forced to do things you hate on a daily basis makes for an excellent and relaxing honeymoon. You’re such a romantic.”

“Hey,” Dean says, finally pushing himself up, grimacing as his stomach peels away from Cas, and then sliding away to get a towel from the bathroom. “This is not gonna be our real honeymoon. I promised a relaxing beach vacation and I intend to deliver on it.”

“With drinks served in coconuts,” Cas calls out as he runs a washcloth under the tap.

“Anything you want, Cas.”

Dean cleans them both up and then crawls under the covers and curls himself around his husband. He’s convinced he’s never gonna stop feeling a little giddy about the word _husband_.

Dean wakes up early the next morning out of habit. Even with the familiar and comforting feeling of Cas pressed against his side, he spends a confused and disoriented minute trying to figure out where the hell he is. His brain finally kicks online and then he remembers. Wedding night. Hotel. And a promise Cas made him last night that has his dick twitching in anticipation.

He rolls over to wake Cas up with a gentle kiss, and as soon as Cas’s eyes pop open, Dean grinds his hips against Cas’s thigh.

“Mornin’ Cas.”

Cas blinks a few times, taking in the room the same way Dean just did, and then without another word he’s right there with Dean. He returns Dean’s kiss with interest, and they spend a lazy handful of minutes waking each other up in the best way possible. Just when Dean thinks things are starting to get interesting, Cas groans and then kicks the blankets off them and drags Dean to his feet.

“Shower, now,” he growls.

Dean miraculously maintains the presence of mind to fish the bottle of lube out of the pile of blankets at the foot of the bed and then follows Cas into the bathroom. The shower’s this huge walk-in affair surrounded by glass walls, and it’s more than big enough for anything they could potentially cook up in the short time they’ve got to enjoy it.

Cas gets the water going and Dean sets the lube down on the little shelf next to the miniature bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a tiny paper-wrapped bar of soap. The hotel’s got excellent water pressure and Dean takes full advantage of it, spending far longer than necessary running his hands all over Cas’s warm, wet skin.

They take turns washing each other’s hair, and once the last of the bubbles wash down the drain Dean drops to his knees and takes Cas into his mouth. Both of Cas’s hands hit the wall to keep himself upright, and his eyes drop closed as his head lolls back against the tile. Dean knows exactly how to best please Cas with his mouth, but this was not what Cas had planned for their morning shower, as good as it might feel.

“Dean, no,” Cas growls out after a minute, tugging on Dean’s hair to make him stop. “Not like this.”

“Too much?”

Cas blinks down at him, returning Dean’s cocky smirk with a scowl of his own, and then helps him to his feet. He pulls Dean in for a kiss and then spins him around to face the wall.

“Not enough,” Cas replies, running his hands down Dean’s back and then reaching for the lube.

Dean spreads his feet wider and lets himself relax against the wall, sighing when Cas sets to work. He’s teasingly slow at first, even slower than Dean had been with him last night, and eventually Dean gives in and begs for more.

“Cas, come on already. Please.”

“Too much?” Cas asks, and Dean has to take a deep breath before answering because Cas has practically reduced him to jelly.

“We’ve got to get fake-married like nine times today, I’m gonna need to be able to walk.”

“Why do you think I’m being so thorough?” Cas says, low and dark in his ear as the tip of his finger brushes over Dean’s prostate.

Dean shivers and then peers over his shoulder at Cas. “You’re always thorough, Cas. You’ve been more than thorough.”

Cas studies him intently from three inches away, and eventually must find what he’s looking for because he nods. Dean can’t see exactly what he’s doing but he can hear the cap on the bottle of lube pop open and snap shut again. A moment later Cas pulls his fingers out and Dean rests his forehead against the cool tile, wishing like hell he hadn’t said anything to make Cas stop what he’d been doing. He changes his mind a second later as Cas pushes slowly inside.

He wasn’t lying about being ready, and Cas lets out a little gasp as Dean pushes his hips back all at once, taking Cas all the way in. Dean can feel Cas pressed all along his back, clinging to him with both arms and taking deep breaths with his face pressed into Dean’s neck.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dean gasps out. “I’m good.”

He feels Cas nod against his shoulder and then everything sort of gets fuzzy. Once he gets started, Cas can’t stop the litany of _Dean_ and _I love you_ and _husband_ , and Dean knows exactly how he feels. If Cas didn’t have him pinned to the wall, he would’ve washed down the drain by now. It’s almost too much and still not enough. He drops one hand from where he’s been supporting himself against the wall to reach for his own neglected cock, and nearly loses his balance. Cas slaps his hand away and reaches down to take care of it himself. After that it’s only a matter of moments before they’re both crying out and everything is finally exactly enough.

Cas eventually slides out but he doesn’t let go of Dean. With one hand, he unwraps the tiny soap and begins a soapy massage of Dean’s shoulders and back. Dean groans and finally peels himself off the wall and turns around to interrupt Cas’s work with a kiss.

“I’m guessing we’re not gonna have much of a chance to do this for the next month,” Dean finally says, pulling the bar of soap from Cas so he can lather up Cas’s chest.

“Shower?” Cas asks, confused.

Dean snorts. “No, the whole Dean Winchester shower experience.”

“Ah,” Cas replies as Dean emphasizes his point by pulling Cas in against him so he can reach around to soap up his back.

They stand under the warm water wrapped together and gently washing each other, occasionally trading lazy kisses until the water finally runs cold.

“I’m going to miss this,” Cas says, reaching for a towel as Dean shuts off the water.

“Hey, you never know. We might end up staying in some classy joint with a decent hot water tank somewhere along the line.”

Cas shrugs and rubs the towel vigorously over his hair, leaving it standing up in every direction. “We can hope.”

By the time they’re dry and dressed, they’ve still got an hour before they have to be back home to get ready for the film crew. Dean suggests they have one last decent breakfast before they’re subjected to an endless parade of weird foreign cuisine (hey, it’s not Cas’s fault one of the episodes of the show Dean watched involved eating a large quantity of fried chicken feet). They stop at the first diner they come to and kill most of the rest of their hour over a couple of stacks of pancakes and a pot of coffee strong enough to wake the dead.

They’re halfway home before Cas yells out for Dean to pull into a gas station. Dean can’t figure out why he’s freaking out at first, but then he realizes exactly where he is. It’s the Gas ‘n Sip where Cas had worked that fateful summer they started talking online. The Gas ‘n Sip where Dean’s quest for an elusive pink frosted, rainbow sprinkled donut had come to its glorious conclusion after their first anonymous conversation.

Cas jumps out of the car almost before Dean’s come to a stop and he’s back outside again with two pink frosted donuts in under a minute. He sets one of them down on Dean’s lap and holds the other one up between them.

“It’s not really official until we exchange the rings,” he says in the most serious tone he can muster while reverently presenting Dean with a donut.

Dean just laughs at him, but he picks up his donut anyway. “You’re such a dork.”

Cas considers that for a second and then nods. “That’s why you married me.”

Dean grins at him. “Yeah, I did that, didn’t I?”

Cas grabs Dean’s empty hand and carefully sets his donut in it, and then Dean follows suit. They spend their last free minutes laughing like loons, eating a couple of donuts in the parking lot of a Gas ‘n Sip, trading kisses between every bite.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there are mostly just tribulations.

Dean’s not usually one to cry at weddings. He didn’t even cry at his own _actual_ wedding, but after his fifth fake trip down the aisle in less than three hours, he’s starting to think it might be a good idea. Maybe they’d stop filming him if he goes all blotchy and red, or maybe that plan would backfire and the lady with the makeup kit would just try and corner him again. He shudders at that thought. He’s already escaped her clutches once today and he’s doing everything in his power to avoid a repeat performance. He sucks it up and decides to save the tears as a last resort. That still doesn’t solve his original problem, though. His feet are aching from wearing the dressy shoes Charlie and Gilda helped him pick out and he’s wondering if anyone would notice if he went and changed into his comfy work boots.

Even though only the twenty people accompanying them on the race are present on camera for this fake wedding, there’s still far more people swarming around their back yard than there had been the day before for their real wedding. There’s more than a dozen cameramen, most of whom aren’t even holding cameras. They’re just mingling with the crowd and getting to know everyone.

Sarah Blake is back, too, along with her producer friend who organized the entire trip, and who it turns out will be acting as the host of the show.

“Bela Talbot,” the woman says, shaking Dean’s hand when he finally gets permission to kick off his shoes and loosen his tie. “I’m very pleased to meet both of you. Congratulations on your nuptials, and thank you for agreeing to share your special day with the world like this.”

Sarah, standing behind Bela, rolls her eyes, and Dean grins. He knew there was a reason Sarah was his favorite reporter. As far as he’s concerned, that one eye roll wiped her slate clean in his book, even if it’s still her fault he’s in this whole mess to begin with.

“Our special day was actually yesterday,” Cas replies, shaking Bela’s hand in turn, and reminding Dean exactly why Cas is his actual favorite anything. “But thank you anyway.”

Bela pulls a face like she was expecting water and got a sip of lemon juice instead, but the flash of irritation melts away in a second and she returns her attention to Dean as if she could save Cas to deal with later. Dean throws his arm over Cas’s shoulders and pulls him in close. If this Bela chick thinks she’s gonna have an easier time bullshitting Dean, well, it’s best she understand how things are gonna work from the start. Before she can say anything else, Sarah steps up beside Bela and takes over the conversation.

“I think we have everything we need from the wedding shoot, so I think we can let everyone start changing into your Day One clothes. Is it okay with you if we use your living room for a final debriefing while the crew clears up out back?”

Dean casts a forlorn glance over at the buffet table, laid out with a gorgeous spread he’s barely had a chance to touch yet. They filmed him and Cas cutting the wedding cake and shoving a slice in each other’s faces, but most of that ended up on the lawn. Aside from that one bite of cake, Dean hasn’t had anything to eat since the donut, and that was at least four hours ago now. His stomach growls just thinking about it.

Bela and Cas both laugh at him, but Sarah takes pity.

“They’re just going to take away all the chairs, the arbor, and aisle runner. I’ll make sure they leave the food.”

“Why don’t the both of you go fix yourselves some lunch while we spread the word around to everyone else,” Bela says soothingly with a glance down at her watch. “We’ll all convene in the living room in, say, half an hour?”

“That sounds fine,” Cas replies, and steers his grateful husband toward the hors d’oeuvres.

Dean stuffs himself with tiny quiches and shrimp cocktail, washing it all down with a couple of glasses of champagne, until Cas finally drags him off to get changed. He tries to start something with Cas while they’re mostly naked up in their own bedroom, proving that maybe Sammy had a point yesterday forcing them to change separately, but luckily Cas is still thinking clearly.

“Stop it, Dean.” Cas gently pushes him away and pulls on a nice but comfortably worn in pair of jeans. “You need to get dressed. There are more than thirty people waiting downstairs, and half of them are strangers.”

“Come on, Cas. Just one kiss. It’s our fake wedding day.”

Dean pulls him in by the waist and Cas almost hits him in the face trying to finish putting on his shirt. They’d been advised that individual teams should try to dress to a theme, and despite Dean lobbying that they should stick to a plaid shirts motif, they finally compromised with jeans and t-shirts. Plaid optional. Cas did convince him to buy a couple of sets of matching team t-shirts.

“ _They build team unity, Dean_.”

“ _I thought it was the wedding bands that built our team unity, Cas._ ”

Whatever, Dean finally caved when Cas suggested that one set of matching shirts could be Winchester Auto shirts, which feature a picture of his Baby. Cas argued that it would be the next best thing to being able to bring Baby along on their trip and Dean couldn’t disagree with that. The outfits they picked for the first leg of the race, though, are all Cas’s choosing.

Cas is wearing a black t-shirt with a bee embroidered over the heart, and Dean’s supposed to be putting on his own black shirt with a beehive in the same spot, but for the moment it’s dangling limply and nearly forgotten in Dean’s right hand while his left is busy groping at Cas’s ass.

Cas gives up, sighs, throws his arms around Dean’s neck, and positively ravages Dean’s mouth in a breath-stealing kiss. By the time he pulls back for air they’re both panting and rumpled, and Dean can’t keep himself from grinning dazedly.

“That’s the spirit, Cas.”

Cas just shrugs Dean off and steps back to finish getting dressed. They finish up quickly after that, and it’s a good thing because when Dean opens the door he finds Sam standing on the other side, one fist poised to knock and a delightfully shocked look on his face.

“You’re actually ready?” Sam asks.

Dean just makes a disgusted face, grabs Cas’s hand, and shoulders past the stunned yeti blocking their door.

It had been crowded yesterday, but now their living room is practically packed to overflowing. Their friends and family are hanging all over every bit of furniture including the dining room and kitchen chairs, as well as a few white folding chairs pilfered from the wedding setup out back. Dean’s just about to lament that there’s nowhere for him to sit and rest his aching feet when Charlie leaps up out of his favorite overstuffed chair and waves a hand at it.

“Saved you guys the throne,” she says, dropping to the floor to sit on a cushion beside Gilda.

Gilda winks at them and Dean grins back. He drops into the chair with a sigh and then yanks Cas down into his lap.

“‘S big enough for two,” Dean tells him quietly as they rearrange themselves until they’re comfortable.

“Right, then,” Bela says, standing up in front of the group. “It’s been lovely to meet all of you today, and I just know we’re all going to have fun together over the next month or so. I just want to go over all the rules one last time to make sure everyone’s clear on what your responsibilities are every step of the way.”

Dean groans, but Cas elbows him in the ribs and whispers, “This is important, Dean.” So Dean listens.

Bela pulls out the thick packet of paperwork they’d all received weeks ago detailing everything from what they needed to pack, how they will receive detailed instructions to lead them to their next check point along the route, and how deviating from those instructions can cause them to incur penalties that have, in the past, led to teams being eliminated from the race.

She describes in excruciating detail the components of each leg, the nature of the tasks they’ll be expected to complete, and how to handle any emergency situations that arise along the way. Cas has to remind Dean three times during the emergency segment of the discussion that they are not going to die on the race. Dean tentatively decides to believe him, at least for now.

Toward the end of her speech, two burly crew members carry in a couple of heavy boxes and set them at Bela’s feet. She dismisses them with what Dean guesses is supposed to be an endearing grin, and then reaches into the first box and pulls out a black fanny pack with red and yellow stripes sewn across the front.

“Each of you will be issued a bag that must remain in your possession throughout the race,” she says, dropping her stack of papers to unzip the bag and pull out the contents. “If you lose it, you could be in dire straits, indeed. It contains all your travel documents, and you’re encouraged to keep your passports, identification, route marker instruction leaflets, and anything else you absolutely need to pass through an international security checkpoint inside, and keep it on your person at all times.”

She carefully lays the contents out on Dean’s coffee table and everyone leans in to get a good look.

“You’ll each be issued a credit card that must only be used to purchase flights, train fare, and other transportation as necessary. It may not be used for taxi service, or any other unauthorized purposes. Doing so,” she begins, and then everyone in the room finishes with the now familiar refrain, “May result in a penalty.”

“Got it, yeah,” Dean adds over the tittering of a few of the crew members.

Bela grits her teeth and sighs, and then she explains everything else in the bag. When she’s finished, she checks the label sewn to the strap. “And this one appears to be yours, Dean. Why don’t you try it on and show us how it looks?”

She hands it to him, smiling devilishly at his grimace, but he nudges Cas off his lap so he can take the hideous thing and clip it around his waist. He holds his arms out to the group and then spins around with one hand on his hip before shooting a dramatic Blue Steel look over his shoulder.

“Yes, very nice,” Bela says as the room erupts in laughter. She begins handing out the rest of the bags and then sends the first few teams outside to begin their initial interviews.

Charlie and Gilda, Gabriel and Kali, and Cas and Dean are the first three pairs sent out to face the lions. Well, not actual lions, but it may as well be as far as Dean’s concerned. Aside from the airplanes, these little confessional chats are the part of the race Dean’s looking forward to the least. Well, also aside from the possibility he’ll have to eat something disgusting. Potentially _a lot_ of something disgusting. Or jump _out_ of one of the aforementioned airplanes. Okay, maybe talking to a camera for five minutes a day isn’t the _worst_ thing that he’ll have to do, but that doesn’t make him like it any more than he did when Sarah had first interviewed them all those months ago.

Three little interview stations have been set up around the yard, the white folding chairs from their fake wedding replaced with upscale cushioned outdoor loveseats. Each couch is surrounded by potted palm trees and several cameramen. Bela and Sarah eventually wander outside and situate themselves in the center of the yard, ready to jump in should there be any problems.

Dean and Cas settle on one of the couches and are immediately flocked by crew members adjusting the portable lighting rigs and repositioning the cameras. Dean tries to introduce himself to the crew, but they won’t give out anything other than their names.

“They don’t want us to get too friendly,” one cameraman says. “We each stick with one team through each leg and then they rotate us to the next team. If we get too friendly, it could give the appearance of impropriety.”

Dean just gives the dude a confused look and then turns to Cas, who translates for him.

“They’re not allowed to help us cheat,” Cas says.

Dean’s confused look evolves into exasperation. “I got that part, thanks. I don’t see how making small talk equates to cheating.”

It’s Cas’s turn to look confused and then shrug. “It’s in the rules, Dean.”

“Okay, then. No small talk with the crew. We won’t talk to you guys at all. Got it.”

At that moment, one of the other crew members turns to them, the little red lights on both cameras blink on to show they’re filming, and then he says, “So, tell us all about yourselves.”

Dean looks straight into the camera and just glares.

Ten minutes later, the crew dismisses them and tells them to send out the next pair. Dean gets up feeling like he and Cas have just retold their entire life story. Again. He can’t imagine how they’re gonna edit it down to fit into the minute-long segment that will eventually air on the show, but he figures that’s their problem to deal with, and he heads inside to tap the next victims.

“Sammy,” he calls out as he steps through the door. “You and Jess are up.”

Sarah comes back inside about an hour later and asks if there are any more questions. Dean glances around the room and he begins to wonder how this group is gonna survive the race at all. Most of the people now sprawled out around their living room haven’t had to do anything more strenuous all day than stand up and sit down again at the appropriate times during their multiple fake wedding reenactments, and they’re all acting like they’ve had to run a marathon.

Benny’s snoring gently on the couch, passed out in what’s probably a food coma from the way he was inhaling the prime rib earlier. His wife, Andrea, catches Dean’s eye and shrugs. Charlie and Gilda are sitting back to back on the floor, both busy with something on their phones, occasionally reaching around to show each other something funny and giggle about it. Bobby and Rufus are at the dining room table playing a game of poker with Ellen, Jo, Jody, and Donna while Krissy and Lee watch from the sidelines. Cas’s professor, Cain, and his wife are engaged in some sort of debate about minor deities from various religions with Gabriel and Kali. Ash is busy studying a map of the world with Victor, like they’ll be able to memorize the entire planet before they all leave in the morning. If nothing else, the people they’re travelling with should make for an interesting trip, Dean thinks.

“Well, if there’s no other questions and you’ve already finished your interviews, you’re all free to go for the day,” Sarah says. “Be ready by nine a.m. tomorrow. A car service will pick each of you up to bring you to the starting line. I’ll see you all there. And good luck!”

When nobody jumps up to leave, Dean finally takes back control of his own home.

“You heard the lady,” he says, not even bothering to dislodge a dozing Cas from his lap this time. “If you’re not spending the night here, get out.”

“Don’t be rude, Dean,” Cas mumbles against his shoulder. “They’re our guests.”

“Yeah, well, party’s over.”

Cas sits up and stretches his back out after having been curled up in Dean’s lap for so long. “What time is it, anyway? We should be thinking about dinner.”

“We’re going out for dinner,” Dean reminds him. “We already cleared out the fridge.”

Cas frowns, remembering the last week of weird meals planned entirely around eliminating as much of their food as they reasonably (and on a few occasions, unreasonably) could before throwing everything else out.

“Is there anything left over from yesterday?” Cas asks, finally standing up and heading toward the kitchen. It’s a futile endeavor, but he wanders off anyway.

“Nope,” Dean yells after him, standing up and then pulling Charlie to her feet, followed by Gilda. “We could order pizza if you don’t want to go out.”

Cas peeks out from the kitchen holding up his phone and the menu from Benny’s deli before calling in the order.

“I don’t wanna eat my own food,” Benny says without showing any other signs that he’s awake.

“Then go home,” Dean says, nudging Benny’s knee. “Everyone, out. Come on. Scram.”

Charlie gives him and Cas a hug, and then she and Gilda begin the mass exodus. Benny finally hoists himself up off the couch, grumbling under his breath that if he goes home he still has to eat his own food, until Andrea slaps him on the shoulder and suggests they go out for a proper celebratory meal instead. Their guests leave two by two in a steady progression until all that remains are Rufus, Bobby, Sam, Jess, and a couple of the crew guys still out front packing up the last of their equipment.

“You guys mind if we stay for dinner?” Sam asks, even though he and Jess are still sort of lingering by the front door. “I mean, if you were planning on double checking all your gear and calling it an early night or something, we get it.”

“It’s only seven o’clock, Sammy. I think we can spare an hour or two of double-checking,” Dean says.

“He’s already quintuple checked all the bags anyway,” Cas replies, settling into his usual spot on the couch now that it’s blessedly empty again. “I forbade him from unzipping them again.”

“Can’t be too careful,” Dean grumbles, and takes the seat next to Cas. “We only get access to the big duffels at pit stops. It could be fucking _days_ before we find out we forgot something.”

“We didn’t forget anything, Dean.” Cas pats his knee reassuringly and then stands up a moment later when the doorbell rings. “Dinner’s here anyway. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself, Dean.”

Dean watches Cas answer the door and pay for their pizza, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to enjoy himself when he just _knows_ in less than a day he’s probably gonna be boarding a plane bound for somewhere really far away. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath of _home_. Most of what makes this home will be coming along with him, though, and he tries to take some comfort in that. He’s lost in his own thoughts of slightly panicked dread when the couch jostles and he opens his eyes to see Cas handing him a dish and a beer.

The rest of his little family joins them around the coffee table, and sadistically decide to watch a rerun of a past race. For fun.

Strangely enough, just watching the excitement on Sam and Jess’s faces, listening to Bobby and Rufus grump about some of the ridiculous tasks the contestants have to perform, and feeling Cas sitting warm and solid by his side is more than enough to have him smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean is confronted with the horrifying reality of his situation.

Dean’s alarm goes off at six, but he and Cas have already been up for an hour by then. They had to find some time to fit in one last romp in their own bed before abandoning it for a month. Cas also figured the happier Dean was leading up to receiving their inevitable instructions to head to the nearest airport, the less anxious he’d be about actually boarding the plane. Half an hour of trading lazy kisses afterward and a thorough massage in the shower couldn’t hurt, either.

When they’re dressed and ready, they bring their backpacks and their large duffels downstairs and set them by the front door next to Bobby and Rufus’ gear. They find their uncle and his friend sitting at the table waiting patiently for them.

“Were you two planning to sit there for the next two hours or do you wanna go out for breakfast?” Dean asks, pulling his keys out of his pocket and dangling them from one finger.

“Well, since you’re offerin’,” Bobby grumbles, while Rufus makes a considering shrug.

The four of them manage to kill most of their remaining time enjoying what might be their last normal meal for a long time.  Dean hurries everyone out of the diner and back to the car so he can get home in enough time to double check everything one last time.

A van rolls up in front of the house at nine o’clock on the dot, and frantically Dean runs around their house one last time making sure the toaster is unplugged and the toilets aren’t running. Cas comes up behind him while Bobby and Rufus struggle to get all their gear out the front door and out to the curb.

“It’s time to go, Dean.” He lays a hand on Dean’s shoulder and gives him a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah,” Dean says, pulling Cas in for a last kiss in their living room. “One for the road, huh?”

Cas smiles at him, and leans in for one more. “And one to see us back again.”

“Is that part of the quote?”

Cas’s smile widens into a grin. “Nah. But I thought it sounded good, and it got me an extra kiss.”

“Sounds good to me, too,” Dean says, leaning in for another.

They’re interrupted by a knock on the front door frame and turn to see Bobby glowering at them.

“Sam told me to make sure you two don’t linger,” he says, and then stands there until they pull apart and pick up their bags.

Dean locks the front door and then he and Cas load their bags into the back of the van before climbing in. They have no idea where they’re headed, but at least they’ve got some company.

“You two excited?” Gabe asks from the back seat.

“Plenty,” Dean answers, staring straight ahead out the front window.

“Come on, Deano. We’re in for the adventure of a lifetime!”

“We’ll see about that,” Kali says, unconvinced.

“I’m with Kali,” Dean grumbles.

“Please don’t be a dick, Gabriel,” Cas says, without any preamble.

“What, I haven’t even done anything. Yet.”

“Shut up, all of you,” Bobby yells from the front seat. “I think we’re there.”

“Where’s there?” Rufus asks.

“Well, at least this is familiar territory,” Cas says.

The van pulls up in the parking lot in front of Cas’s building at the University, joining several others just like it already emptying of their passengers.

“Okay guys, everybody out,” the driver says. “Grab your travel packs and leave the rest of your gear in the van, then follow me.”

When classes are in session, this part of the campus would be flooded with people even on a Sunday morning, but with the spring semester finished and the summer term still a week away, the only people milling about the grassy area between buildings are wearing official Amazing Honeymoon crew t-shirts and lugging camera gear around. Bela and Sarah are talking together amid the chaos, standing between two red and yellow striped flags planted in the ground to serve as a backdrop for the official start of the race.

At first Dean thinks nobody has any idea what they’re doing, and it’s not doing anything good for the state of his nerves. The overall impression he gets is that everyone’s running in frenzied circles, but at least one dude seems to know what the hell’s supposed to be going on. Dean remembers meeting him at some point yesterday; Alvin… no, Alfie. He’s the only one wearing an official Race ballcap, also adorned with the ubiquitous red and yellow stripes, and carrying a clipboard with the same logo pasted on the back of it.

“Everyone, leave your packs here and then head over to Bela at the starting line.”

Alfie points out a long stripe of red and yellow tape laid along a sidewalk where several pairs of backpacks are already lined up and waiting. Dean and Cas exchange a look, shrug, and drop their bags together a few feet away from the others.

Bela spots them coming and cuts off her conversation with Sarah. She smiles brightly, noticing immediately that Dean has already misplaced a certain essential item before the race has even begun. She points at Dean but addresses her words to Cas.

“It seems your husband’s already lost his travel documents pouch. At least one of you knows how to follow instructions.”

Cas glances down at the ugly pack clipped around his own waist. “I couldn’t get it to fit inside my backpack.”

“If you’d let me check it one last time, I probably coulda crammed it in there,” Dean replies, grinning at Bela.

“Well, you’d better go fetch yours, Dean,” Bela says. “You’ll need to wear it for the opening ceremony.”

Cas runs one hand sympathetically down Dean’s arm and gives him a forlorn look. Dean grumbles and jogs back over to where they left their backpacks. He’d packed the stupid race bag on top (he adamantly refuses to call it a fucking fanny pack), so it doesn’t take him long to find it and dig it out. A grumpy looking crew member is standing by his bag guarding the clue he’d just pinned to it, making sure Dean doesn’t try to tamper with it in any way. Dean rolls his eyes at the guy and grabs the stupid bag, carefully zipping up his pack without so much as touching the yellow envelope. There’s no reason for him to actually wear the thing until they’re ready to turn the cameras on, so he keeps the bag rolled up in one hand and runs back over to wait with Cas.

When everyone’s in position just a minute later, Sarah gives them all a wave and shouts, “Good luck, guys! Have a great trip!” And then she walks away.

That just leaves Bela, the eleven racing teams, twelve camera men, and Alfie, who Dean’s beginning to guess is here to function as Bela’s assistant. The vans with their duffel bags containing the rest of their clothes and gear are already gone, presumably on their way to their first pit stop location, wherever the hell that might be. Dean reins in a whimper. He shouldn’t feel adrift just because he’s been separated from most of his stuff. Cas must sense his distress, because he reaches down and grabs ahold of Dean’s hand. Cas leans in real close, and Dean’s expecting him to say something sweet, or encouraging, or helpful, or bolstering, or fucking _something_ , but no.

“Put the godforsaken fanny pack on, Dean. If I have to wear it, then so do you.”

Cas’s grumpily delivered order is so much better than any motivational speech full of flowery words. It’s grounding, comfortable, and reassuring. It’s Cas. Dean puts the damn pack on.

“I swear to God, first time we’re not moving, I’m reorganizing everything inside your bag so it’ll fit.”

Cas smiles at him and leans in for a quick kiss. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

Dean can’t help but laugh, and drapes one arm around Cas’s shoulders. There’s so many reasons why he married Cas, and that right there is one of them. Anyone who can make him feel this good when he’s this terrified is someone worth marrying. Hell, convincing him to come on this whole stupid fucking adventure in the first place is a pretty big reason. If it hadn’t been Cas asking him to get on not just one plane flight, but potentially _dozens_ , he never would’ve signed up for this kind of torture. Not even for Sammy.

“Hey, Dean, Cas.” Speaking of Sammy, he’s practically vibrating out of his skin with excitement, standing a few feet from Dean. “You guys ready for this?”

“He’s been like this all night,” Jess says, and that’s explanation enough.

Cas is maintaining his usual serene calm and it’s doing wonders for Dean. He just grins over at Jess.

“We’re as ready as we’re gonna get.” Dean replies, and then Bela’s cutting off all conversation.

“All right, everyone. Can I have your attention? We’re going to begin filming in a moment, but I have a few final instructions for you all. Your first clues are already attached to your backpacks, one clue per team. When we’re done filming this segment, run to your packs, read your clues, and follow the instructions inside carefully. Remember, you must remain with your assigned crew member throughout the leg, including any travel arrangements you may need to make. They can’t offer you any assistance except in an emergency. So good luck, and I’ll be waiting for you at the first pit stop! Okay, roll cameras!”

Bela delivers a more tv-friendly version of her welcome speech, greeting each team by name as an introduction, which Dean knows will eventually be edited together with their interviews from the day before. It’s just starting to get boring when suddenly Bela’s commanding them to get ready, get set, GO.

Twenty two people all make a beeline for the row of bags and fumble for their clue envelopes. They’re met by eleven waiting cameramen, ready to film each of them reading the clue aloud. That’s one part of this race that Dean had thought was stupid before, but in the rush of competition, he finds himself reading aloud excitedly with Cas. His excitement only increases when he catches the name of their first destination. Planes be damned, he can’t wait to get there.

“ **Locate the marked vehicles in a nearby lot. Drive yourselves to Kansas City, and then fly to the Big Easy.** ”

“Hot damn,” Dean yells, hoisting his backpack up onto his shoulder and making a run toward the parking lot where they’d been dropped off just a few minutes earlier.

“Dean, wait!” Cas yells, pointing to another, smaller lot off to their right while tucking the clue envelope containing all their incidental spending money for this leg of the race carefully into his bag.

Dean turns to see what Cas needs, and follows his outstretched finger to a row of identical white Ford Focuses, each with a little red and yellow race flag sticker on the windshield. Dean’s about to yell out to all their friends currently running toward the wrong parking lot, but Cas grabs his arm and shushes him. Dean gives him a confused, slightly hurt look, and Cas practically has to drag Dean to the first car in the lot.

“This is a race, Dean,” Cas reminds him while they load their gear into the trunk. Cas graciously opens the back door for their cameraman and then climbs into the passenger seat. “The idea is to find advantages and then take advantage of them.”

“I see your point,” Dean replies, sliding into the driver’s seat to the cameraman’s quiet laughter. “And shut up, you.”

“Sorry. I’m not allowed to _help_ you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a good time.”

“Yeah, well, what should we call you, giggles?”

“Giggles is fine with me. You’re supposed to be pretending I don’t exist most of the time anyway.”

Dean glares at the guy in the rear view mirror, wondering if Giggles is part demon or something as he navigates his way out of the tiny lot and on to the main street. The rest of the teams have finally spotted the cars, and Dean gets to watch them all turn and sprint back in the direction they all just came from. He turns to shoot Cas a playful smirk. “Yeah, that is pretty damn entertaining to watch.”

It’s not a long drive to the airport, but Giggles doesn’t do a lot of laughing once Dean gets out on the interstate. Needless to say, none of the other teams have a chance of catching up to them with Dean behind the wheel, even if that wheel is attached to a brand new Ford Focus and not his Baby.

“So where exactly are we supposed to park?” Dean asks as they near the airport.

“Short Term Lot A, in one of the marked spaces,” Cas replies.

They only have to read out the bolded text for the cameras, but there are other helpful details on their clue sheets that they’re still obligated to treat as law. Parking in a non-marked space would probably result in a penalty, so Dean and Cas weave their way through the lanes keeping an eagle eye out for one of the now-familiar red and yellow race banners.

“Stop, Dean, I see one!” Cas yells right near the front of the third row they drive down.

“Nice catch, Cas.” Dean backs up while Cas jumps out of the car to move the orange cone the flag is attached to so they can take the space.

Dean doesn’t even realize until they get to the reservation desk to buy their tickets that he’s still wearing the stupid race bag around his waist. Since he and Cas are the only team in sight when they finish buying their tickets, Dean decides he doesn’t even care about the bag anymore. It’s too thrilling being out in first place to worry about looking stupid in public. The whoop he lets out when they make it through security and onto their plane before seeing a single other team takes care of the whole _not looking stupid in public_ thing for him real quick.

“Come on, come on, get this bucket of bolts off the ground,” Dean mutters to himself while Cas calmly buckles himself in.

“Who are you and what have you done with Dean?”

Dean’s staring at the flight attendant, mentally willing the poor woman to shut and lock the door. When that fails to have any immediate effect on the situation, he redirects his mental energy directly into shutting the door with the power of his mind. Needless to say, that also fails.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?”

“We’re the only ones here,” Dean replies like that should be obvious, his eyes still glued to the door.

“Yes, but the flight isn’t scheduled to depart for another fifteen minutes. And I thought you hated flying.” Cas glares at him.

“What? Yes,” Dean says, taking a good look around the rest of the plane like this is the first time he’s really seeing it. That makes his current situation entirely too real and leaves him squirming in his seat. “Planes scare the shit outta me.”

“Then just try to relax, Dean,” Cas says, taking one of Dean’s hands that he’d been rubbing vigorously along his thighs, and gripping it tightly between his own. “I think you’re upsetting the other passengers.”

Across the aisle from him, Giggles looks nearly as entertained as he had back in the car, but Dean’s beginning to think the guy’s just got a twisted sense of humor. Either that or he’s a sadist and Dean is just a convenient target for him today. He hasn’t ruled out the demon thing, either. Dean reluctantly takes a deep breath and tries to relax into his seat.

“Nope, not helping.”

Cas squeezes his hand while Dean squeezes his eyes shut.

“It’ll be fine, Dean. It’s less than a two hour flight. At least they tried to start you off gently, ease you in to the whole idea of flying.”

Dean can appreciate their effort, but recalling the only other time he’s ever been on a plane doesn’t exactly leave him feeling encouraged. He’d been standing at the back of the plane waiting to use the restroom when they hit turbulence, and he and the flight attendant had been tossed around like a couple of ping pong balls in a lottery machine.

As if Cas were reading his mind, he suddenly says, “It could’ve been worse, Dean. You could’ve already been in the lavatory when it happened. That could’ve become… messy.”

The strange visual that presents him is just too much, and Dean cracks one eye to see Cas studying him gravely. Dean loses it. “Oh god, yeah. That settles it. I’m never gonna take a piss on a moving plane.”

Cas finally cracks a smile. “That might become difficult if we’re expected to fly around most of the world.”

Out the corner of his eye, Dean sees the flight attendant by the door perk up and welcome three new passengers aboard. He’s pleasantly surprised by who it is.

“Hey, boys! Looks like we caught up to you,” Jody says, slightly out of breath from her run through the terminal to make the flight.

“Glad you made it,” Cas replies, waving hello to Jody and Donna with the hand Dean’s not currently clinging to for dear life. “Did you see any of the other teams?”

“Sam and Jess were behind us in line, but Charlie wasn’t sure anyone else had a chance to make this flight by the time they bought their tickets, so the rest of them took off in search of the next soonest flight at another airline.”

“So we’ll already have a lead when we land?” Dean asks, trying to let that knowledge comfort him.

Maybe Cas was right. One of the arguments he’d used on Dean to convince him to suffer through the plane flights was that compared to the stress and competition of the rest of the race, the flights would seem peaceful and relaxing. At the time, he’d laughed and dismissed Cas’s assertion as insane. Now that they’d been in the race for less than two hours, Dean’s already beginning to understand the wisdom of Cas’s statement. If only he can relax enough to sleep through the worst of it, he might really be on to something.

Jody and Donna wish them luck, and then they and their unnamed cameraman quickly move down the aisle to find their seats and stow their bags.

“Any minute now,” Dean says with a glance down at his watch.

The flight attendant is about to shut the door when footsteps Dean would recognize anywhere thunder down the jetway, along with a breathless, “Sorry, sorry, hold the door just one second, thanks,” just as Sam lumbers into view.  Dean smirks at him while Sam scans the rows of seats and finally spots him and Cas, and his face breaks out into a beaming grin like a puppy who is expecting a treat.

“Down, boy,” Dean says when Sam, Jess, and unnamed cameraman number three squeeze their way down the aisle past his seat.

“The next flight out doesn’t leave for over an hour,” Jess leans down informs them like this was top secret intelligence. “Everyone else will be on it, though.”

“So we’ll have a little breathing room,” Cas replies, turning to Dean. “Even more reason to relax.”

“You’re trying to get Dean to relax on a plane?” Sam asks while shoving his bag under the seat behind Dean. “Is it working?”

“It seems to be,” Cas replies.

“For now,” Dean adds, feeling a resurgence of his fear when the flight attendant finally grants his wish and shuts the door.

Two hours later, Dean is still alive. That’s about the nicest thing he can say about his second air travel experience. Cas got him through it somehow, and he knows there’ll be worse in his immediate future, but for now he’s counting it as a success.

He and Cas are the closest team to the front of the plane, which means they’ll be the first ones off once the plane taxis to the gate. They’ve already read over their next instructions about forty times during the flight, but Dean asks to read them just once more before they’re allowed to stand up and grab their bags.

“Take a cab to Jackson Square, where you’ll find your Krewe waiting for you,” Cas repeats for the forty-first time.

“So like a Mardi Gras parade Krewe. Just a bunch of people dressed up funny. Nothing about a clue box?” Dean asks again.

Cas holds up the clue and points to it, so Dean can read it for himself. Again.

“This is all the information we were given, Dean.”

“Fine, okay. Good.”

Dean takes a few deep breaths and leaps from his seat the second the plane stops moving. It’s all Cas and Giggles can do to keep up with him, but they do end up at the front of the plane before the door’s even unlocked. He calls back through the crowd to Sam and Jess.

“See you at Jackson Square, bitch.”

“Not if we get there first, jerk.”

They jog through the terminal and straight outside into the early June heat of New Orleans. A line of cabs is waiting just a few yards away, and Dean approaches the first one and tells the driver their destination. He leaves it up to Giggles to negotiate sitting in the front seat and then opens the back door for Cas. He barely even notices that they’re being filmed when they settle in the back seat.

“At least we didn’t have to go through customs yet,” Cas says as the cab takes them out onto the interstate. “That’s one more hassle you’ve been spared on your first flight.”

“Don’t remind me, Cas. I don’t wanna think about airports at all until they send us back to one. Deal?”

“Deal.”

With air travel no longer an imminent threat, Dean’s finally able to relax. He leans back, throws one arm around Cas’s shoulders, and plants a kiss on his cheek. Cas just continues to smile serenely into the camera.

“Is he always like this, or is it for the camera?” Giggles finally asks after watching Dean essentially cuddle up to Cas for a few minutes, which gets Dean’s attention.

“Like what?” Cas asks, at the same time Dean says, “I thought you weren’t allowed to talk to us.”

Dean turns to glare at the guy and it’s only then that he notices the camera.

“You’re taping this?” Dean asks, his voice gone thin and reedy. He clears his throat and sits up straight.

Giggles shrugs. “We’re supposed to tape everything. Never know when someone will do or say something interesting.”

“Good to know,” Dean replies.

Cas glowers at Giggles. “You had to say something, didn’t you.”

Giggles lives up to his nickname, and then shrugs. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to ruin your month.”

Dean forgets about the camera again soon enough and spends the rest of the short drive through the city pointing out the sights to Cas. They pull up to Jackson Square and Cas pays the driver from their funds allotment while the three of them pile out into the crowded park.

“Damn, I can smell the beignets,” Dean says, looking around for their next clue. “I wonder if we have time to get one.”

“Maybe next time, Dean. Look. There’s our Krewe.”

Cas darts off toward a group of colorfully dressed people who look like they arrived at the park by Mardi Gras Parade Float. They’re all holding strands of beads and handing out candy to the crowd, surrounded by a wandering jazz band and a flock of dancers parading around with huge feathered fans. It’s difficult to carve out a path through the melee, but Dean follows behind Cas and they eventually find the leader of the group.

“Laissez les bon temps rouler,” Dean says with a grin when a woman wearing a sparkly mask hands him a praline, which he promptly shoves in his mouth. “Didn’t get a beignet, but the day’s not a total bust.”

The man seated in a gilded throne at the center of the fray laughs at Dean and hands over their next clue. Cas glances around to make sure Giggles was able to keep up before ripping open the envelope on the spot.

**“Travel on foot to the Steamboat Natchez, where you’ll find your next clue. Warning: Roadblock ahead.”**

“It’s this way,” Dean says, grabbing Cas’s free hand, collecting a few more pralines from the nice lady’s tray and then dragging them both toward the river.

“You gotta try one of these, Cas.”

Dean lets go of Cas’s hand so he can take a praline. Cas just inspects it, gives the buttery confection an assessing sniff, and says, “As soon as we stop running.”

They only have to run a few blocks before they find their destination and Cas finally gets to properly taste his treat.

“Oh my god that’s incredible,” he says, while Dean takes a turn fishing their next clue out of the box on the pier beside the giant steamboat.

Dean rips open the clue and reads the second envelope tucked inside, since Cas’s mouth is still occupied with the praline. He forgets himself for a minute at the sight of Cas transported by the sugary pecan goodness of his first praline. It’s just too adorable and he has to grin and lean in for a kiss. Cas smiles up at him, delighted, but then taps the clue in Dean’s hand. Dean kisses him again real quick and then reads the clue for Giggles, who luckily keeps his mouth shut for once.

“It’s a roadblock,” Dean says, recalling that that means it’s one of the tasks that only one of them can perform. “ **Who’s ready to kick up their heels?** ”

“I’ll do it,” Cas says, swallowing the last of his candy and  grabbing the clue out of Dean’s hands.

“All right then, twinkletoes. Get to it,” Dean says, grinning at Cas’s enthusiasm for what sounds like it could be a dancing event. During their bingewatch of past seasons, they honed their race strategy to save time when it came to making these sorts of decisions along the way. They’re each only allowed to complete half the roadblocks, and one of their strategic decisions included Cas taking any potential dancing-related tasks.

Cas hands Dean his backpack and opens the clue.

“ **One team member must follow their ear to the Natchez ballroom, where you’ll be taught a traditional Cajun dance that you must perform. When the judges agree you’ve performed it correctly, you will be handed your next clue.** ”

“You got this, babe!” Dean calls out, as Cas runs up the ramp and disappears aboard the ship.

Giggles starts running after him and then stops and calls out to Dean, who’s still standing on the dock taking in the sights like a dope. “You’re allowed to come, too.”

“Right,” Dean mutters to himself and heads off at a normal walking pace, like that had been his intention the whole time.

Onboard, Dean finally hears the music and follows it to a large ballroom where a local band is playing zydeco music and about thirty people are spinning around the room. He eventually spots Cas off to one side getting a dance lesson from a young woman wearing a straw cowboy hat that matches the one now resting atop Cas’s head. She guides him through the steps slowly at first, but it doesn’t take long for Cas to start catching on. Dean’s so distracted by the sight that he almost doesn’t notice Jess and Donna wander in and pick their own dance instructors from the group waiting by the door.

Sam and Jody join him a minute later at the back of the ballroom, and now it’s just a waiting game for the three of them to see which of their teammates can master the dance first. Having had a few minutes head start on the others, Cas is first up to go before the judges. The dance floor is cleared, and with an awkward and nervous wink at Dean, Cas and his partner take center stage.

Dean gives Cas what he hopes is a confident and encouraging nod, and throws in a thumbs up for good measure. Cas’s partner squeezes his hand to draw his attention back to the task at hand and Dean recognizes the sincere apology in the angle of his husband’s head tilt from halfway across the room. The grin he’d pasted on for Cas’s benefit blossoms into the genuine article.

The entire dance routine takes less than a minute and Cas pulls it off perfectly on the first try, as Jess and her partner wait in the wings for their turn. As soon as the judges hand Cas their next clue, Jess and her partner step out into the middle of the room while Donna waits for her turn on the floor.

Dean catches most of Jess’s routine, gives both Sam and Jody an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and then hauls ass out of there. Jess looked fucking amazing, and he knows it’ll only be a few seconds before she and Sam are on their tails again. So much for their lead.

Out on deck, Dean pulls Cas in for a hug.

“That was awesome, babe.”

Cas grins. “Thank you, Dean. It was fun.” He tears open the next clue, and reads it over quickly.

**“Travel by marked car to Vermillionville. Warning: Detour ahead!”**

“Does it say where the marked cars are?” Dean asks, handing over Cas’s backpack and navigating their way back to the dock.

“In the lot across the street,” Cas says, pointing it out from their vantage point on the upper deck of the ship.

From that high up, Dean easily spots the row of cars with race flags flapping from their antennas.

“We need to get directions to Vermillionville,” Cas says, stopping Dean before he can cross the street and leave behind the crowds of people that might be able to head them in the right direction.

Dean glances around and then remembers where he’d been standing before he went aboard the ship. Turns out he was _strategically_ staring into space instead of just being a dope. “Tour company. There,” he points at the little building. “Maybe they have maps.”

Of course they have maps. They’re a tour company. They learn Vermillionville is over an hour’s drive away and Dean groans. It’s long past his usual lunch time, and aside from a handful of pralines and a tiny bag of pretzels on the plane, he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He almost hopes one of the detour challenges involves eating something. Anything, at this point.

“Can we stop at a drive through somewhere?” Dean asks when they finally pick out a car and set out toward the highway.

Cas rummages through his backpack for a minute and pulls out a granola bar. He hands it over the seat to Dean. “Here, eat this. I packed plenty.”

Dean feels it bump against his shoulder and takes it gratefully. He tears the wrapper open with his teeth and moans around a bite. “You are an angel, Cas. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Not in the last hour or so, no.”

Dean grins at him in the rear view mirror and keeps chewing. “So you packed more of these? Is that why you couldn’t fit your race bag in your backpack?”

“That might be one reason, yes.”

“Then I forgive you.”

“I may have squeezed a few dozen more into my gear bag to restock at pit stops.”

“Angel,” Dean says again through a mouthful of chocolate and almonds, and grins over at Giggles in the passenger seat.

 

The drive to Vermillionville proves uneventful. Once they’re through Baton Rouge and out into the bayou, traffic thins out and he realizes he leading a very short parade to Lafayette. Sam’s in the car directly behind him, and every once in a while when he pulls out to pass a slower car, he catches a glimpse of Donna driving the car behind Sam.

At one point he decides to test a theory and slows way down like he’s about to pull over. Dean keeps his eyes glued to Sam, just to see what he’ll do. He neglects to mention his little game to Cas.

“Dean, is something wrong? Why are we slowing down? Our exit isn’t for another four or five miles according to this map.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Dean shouts, flooring it and returning to highway speed, practically leaving Sam in their dust. “They’re following us!”

“Of course they are,” Cas replies, craning his neck around to watch Donna gain on them after passing Sam. “We’re all going to the same place.”

“No, I mean, they’re _following us_. They have no idea how to get there, and they’re just hoping that we do.”

“Huh. Then they’re lucky we have a map.” Cas holds the map up in the rear window, and watches Donna crack up laughing as Jody waves their own map from the back seat of their car. Cas gives them a thumbs up and turns back around to keep his eyes out for their exit.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope Sammy learned his lesson, then.”

“You need to take the next exit, southbound.”

“We’re almost there?”

Cas nods. “Less than five miles now.”

“And then the detour,” Dean says, pulling down the exit ramp. “At least we get to do this one together.”

“Would you rather have done the dancing?”

“Hell, no, Cas. We talked about this. You did great.”

“You need to turn left at the next intersection,” Cas says.

They find the entrance to the Vermillionville Historical Center and Dean groans when he reads the sign on one of the buildings. It reads _Jean Lafitte National Historic Park._

“Dammit,” Dean mutters, but he just keeps driving. “Benny’s gonna flip when he sees that. Good thing he’s probably an hour behind us, or he’d think he’s got this challenge in the bag.”

Cas peers at the sign Dean’s grumbling about, and laughs. “I wonder if he’s any relation to Jean Lafitte?”

“He’d probably say so,” Dean replies, pulling into a parking spot in the Vermillionville lot. “Don’t know if I’d believe him. Hey, you think we can leave our packs in the car, or do we have to bring them with us? Probably safe to leave ‘em, right Giggles?”

The cameraman just shrugs and keeps on filming.

“Right. No help. Fine. We should probably take ‘em then.”

They get out just as Jody and Donna are piling out of the car next to them, and Sam is turning off the engine two spots over. Jody and Donna shout a quick hey and then take off toward the clue box by the main entrance to the park. Without their packs.

Cas insists they take theirs anyway. “It’s already on your back. It’ll take longer to put it back in the car than it will for us to catch them at this point.”

Dean groans but he knows Cas is right, and sets off at a run to catch up with his husband. They make it to the clue box just as Jody and Donna set off into the park. Dean’s panting from the sprint, but Cas runs almost every day and is used to the activity. He hasn’t so much as broken a sweat in the swampy Louisiana heat.

“Why do you do this for fun?” Dean asks, hands on his knees while Cas tears open their clue.

“So at times like these I can feel superior for a few minutes.”

“Aw, Cas. You’re always superior.” Dean leans in and gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Cas rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling when he reads the cover page of the Detour instructions. Unlike the Roadblock, they both must complete the Detour, but they have a choice of two options. Like with the Roadblock, they’ve been honing their team strategy for which options they think they’ll be able to complete with the least amount of hassle.

Jess squeezes past them to fetch her clue from the box and Dean can’t resist ragging on Sam.

“Get your own map next time, Sammy.”

“Hush, Dean. Detour,” Cas scolds him, and they read the clue together for the camera.

**“Start a Fire or Float a Boat.”**

At least the Detour lets them read exactly what their options entail before they have to choose one over the other, and they’re also allowed to switch if they decide they’ve chosen the wrong task for them. Cas keeps reading aloud.

“ **FIRE: gather and assemble the materials to build a fire pit, then use flint and steel to start a fire and prepare a traditional pot of rice. When it meets the judge’s approval, you will receive your next clue. WATER: Paddle in a canoe through the bayou to locate three local crafts hidden along the route. Bring all three items to the dock to receive your next clue.** ”

They look over the rest of the detailed instructions quickly and decide they’d rather keep their fate in their own hands rather than leaving it up to an unknown factor like how long it takes rice to cook over a campfire, and head off toward the docks with Sam and Jess on their heels.

“Still following us, Sammy?”

“Shut up and run, Dean,” Jess says from right behind him.

“Take her advice, Dean,” Cas shouts from up ahead.

They follow a marked path until it splits off into two branches, one pointing the way to the activity Dean jokingly refers to as “Fire and rice,” and the other toward the river and a row of canoes marked with red and yellow stripes. Dean’s mainly relieved he can finally drop his pack, and all four of them leave them behind in a pile on the grass as they run to the river’s edge.

Several attendants in historical dress instruct them on safety procedures, check that their lifejackets are fastened properly, and then hand out the list of items they need to find before returning to get their next clue.

Dean climbs into the back seat of the canoe while Cas settles in front. Giggles plops himself and his camera right in the middle of the boat. Dean glares at him when he rocks the boat trying to get settled comfortably, but he’s having an easier time than Sam’s cameraman who almost gets left behind on shore. Dean and Cas each pick up a paddle and push off from the dock just ahead of Sam and Jess. The bayou is shady and pleasant compared to the heat of New Orleans, and Dean takes a minute to appreciate his surroundings.

“Do you see anything yet, Dean?”

The sound of Sam and Jess catching up to them brings Dean back to Earth and he remembers the list of items they’re supposed to be searching for. How they’re supposed to spot three tiny things hidden in the dense trees along the bayou, he has no idea, but he knows can’t let Sam get there first.

“Uh, corn husk dolls, a carved wooden duck, and some kind of cloth thing, yeah.”

“I believe it’s embroidery,” Cas replies.

Without warning, Jess screeches and starts pointing emphatically at the right-hand bank, and Sam lets out a whoop and steers their boat away. Dean’s torn between feeling like it’s given him and Cas some advantage because they’ve opened a lead on their competition, and realizing the distance they’ve paddled is completely irrelevant if they can’t find the trinkets they’re supposed to be searching for.

“Dammit. Sounds like they found something already.”

“I think they must have different items on their list, then. It looks like they’ve found a jar of preserves.”

Dean considers this for a second, trying to determine if it’s a bad thing or a good thing that they’re not looking for the same list of things, when Cas points out a shelf of wooden ducks suspended from a tree branch hanging out over the water. He stops paying attention to Sam and Jess to maneuver the boat into position, and Cas retrieves a duck without falling out of the canoe. It’s a near thing, but they manage to stay dry.

Dean spots a basket filled with corn husk dolls a minute later. While Dean’s gingerly standing up to reach the basket and then carefully reaching in to pull one out, Cas notices a tree just a little further downstream decorated with embroidery hoops like they were giant Christmas ornaments. On closer inspection, each of the designs is unique, and Cas studies them for a moment before selecting one depicting a bee resting on a purple flower.

“It’s like they made it just for us, Dean,” Cas says, fondly running his fingers over the image.

“Maybe they’ll let you keep it,” Dean says, turning their boat around to head for the dock. “We can frame it. Hang it up in the kitchen or something.”

They paddle relentlessly now that they’re practically neck and neck with Sam and Jess in their race to get their next clue. Dean doesn’t even bother slowing down when they arrive; he just cuts hard to the left and practically rams the side of the canoe into the pier before jumping out and offering a hand down to Cas for all their loot. Cas hands over the duck and the doll, but refuses to part with the bee picture, so he takes Dean’s hand and hoists himself up to the dock.

They leave Giggles behind to fend for himself and take off running for the nearest judge, a woman in a long flowery dress and a little white bonnet. Lucky for Giggles, who’s still trying to climb out of the canoe without dropping any of his equipment in the bayou, there’s another cameraman waiting there with her to capture the judging. Cas hands over their item list and the woman inspects their haul carefully. A few seconds later she smiles and congratulates them, and then hands over their next clue. It gives Giggles just enough time to catch up to film them running off again.

“ **PIT STOP: Proceed on foot to the chapel. The last team to arrive may be eliminated.** ”

Dean finishes reading the clue amid screams from Sam and Jess, who are already running back down the path through the woods. He takes one look at Cas and they both bolt off at top speed, leaving Giggles in their dust again.

Dean might not run every day like Cas does, but when the chips are down and he’s abandoned his heavy backpack, he can outrun pretty much anyone in a dead sprint. His legs ache and his lungs feel like they might explode, but he keeps pace with Cas all the way to the mat where Bela and another woman in a long flowery dress are waiting for them. Oh, and Sam and Jess, too.

They step up to the Pit Stop mat just in time to hear Bela pronounce Sam and Jess Team Number One and congratulate them on winning a trip to the Galapagos Islands for finishing the leg in first place.

“Dean, Castiel. Please, step up to the mat. You’re team number two! Congratulations!”

The woman with Bela then says, “Bonjou! Bienvenue a Vermillionville.”

Sam, Jess, Dean, and Cas all thank her, and then turn back to Bela.

“Sam and Jess, you really stuck that out on that final run. I guess you’re not going to make it easy for your brother to win.”

Dean glares at Bela when she winks at Sam, but then turns to glare at Sam, who’s blushing and fumbling for words. Jess catches his eye and shrugs apologetically.

“You owe us one for the whole map thing,” Dean says, and Sam gives him an eager puppy face.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “I promise. Next leg.”

“Well, maybe you can negotiate ownership of the Express Pass, then?” Bela offers, handing Sam and Jess a yellow envelope that’s essentially a golden ticket out of any activity they choose to spend it on. “For winning the first leg of the Amazing Honeymoon, you have to use the Express Pass to skip one task before the end of the fifth leg, and then chose another team to hand it off to once you’ve used it. Maybe passing it along to Dean and Cas will soothe any hard feelings?”

“Yeah, Sam. My hard feelings and I think that’s a fair trade,” Dean says.

“Hey, you guys still finished second!” Sam argues. “It’s not like we got you eliminated on the first leg or anything.”

“Yes, well,” Bela interrupts to redirect them into safer territory. “How did you enjoy the first leg of the race? I see you survived your plane flight, Dean.”

Dean grumbles a bit but admits it wasn’t as bad as he was expecting.

“And you, Cas. I hear you and Jess both have some new dance moves to show off.”

Jess laughs. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, congratulations to all of you. It looks like you’re going to be strong competitors.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Cas tells her with a smile, and then they’re dismissed to retrieve their backpacks and settle in to their accommodations for the next twelve hours, until they’re given their next clue and sent off on the second leg of their journey.

Dean looks around, expecting to be hounded for one final interview to recap the entire leg. He spots Alfie off to the side and holds up one hand, wondering if they’re really off the hook for the confessional narration bit, but Alfie just gives him a grin and a thumbs up, so Dean decides not to push his luck and question it. He hates those damn interviews anyway.

 

As they stroll away from the mat, Jess looks around and wonders aloud what happened to Jody and Donna.  
“They were ahead of all of us, but we finished first and second.”

“Guess they did the rice thing,” Dean says, turning to Cas. “You were right.”

“Right about what?” Sam asks.

“Should I reveal all our strategies to the enemy?” Cas asks Dean, smirking playfully and sidling up next to him.

Dean wraps an arm around him and takes a minute to appreciate how good that feels after the day they’ve had. “Maybe just this one.”

Cas touches one finger to the side of his nose and nods significantly, like he’s sending a message in some secret code. “Always pick the Detour task that relies the most on your ability, and the least on factors you have no control over.”

“I can’t control how fast rice is gonna boil, but I can control how fast I can paddle a canoe,” Dean clarifies.

“Makes sense,” Sam says after a considering moment.

When they reach the dock where they’d abandoned their backpacks, they find several more in the pile than when they’d left. As they sort through to dig out their own, Dean recognizes several of the other bags.

“Looks like the second flight folks finally made it,” he says, hoisting up his pack.

Cas looks around to make sure he won’t be interfering with any teams still on the race, and then excuses himself to run over and talk with the judge at the nearby canoe dock. Dean watches him point down at the embroidered bee now resting on a blanket spread out on the grass, and then to the bee embroidered on his shirt. As Cas talks, the woman’s smile gets brighter, and then Cas points over at Dean with a huge grin on his face. Dean waves back when the judge waves at him, and then she’s smiling and nodding, and Cas is picking up his precious bee embroidery, popping it out of its wooden hoop, shaking her hand, and then running back over to Dean.

“You got room in your pack for that, Cas?” Dean asks, crouching down beside his husband.

“I’ll make room for this.”

He folds it carefully and tucks it into a small inside pocket of his backpack for safekeeping while Dean watches on. Dean can hardly stand how adorable it is, and he still can’t believe how lucky he is to have Cas in his life. He stands up when Cas finally gets everything zipped back up and helps Cas to his feet just so he can have an excuse to pull him in close for a second.

 “So where are we headed now?”

“One of the buildings up near the main entrance,” Cas says, reading the instruction sheet he was handed before Giggles had left them back at the mat. “It says we should select our accommodations inside.  There’s also directions to the restrooms and shower facilities. And dinner will be served beginning at six.”

Dean checks his watch and is thrilled to learn it’s nearly six already. He’s less thrilled when he sees their accommodations. He wasn’t expecting four star hotels, but he was at least hoping for four _walls_.

The building they’re spending the night in resembles a large overhauled barn-turned-dance hall. The space has been partitioned off into eleven smaller areas with nothing more than flimsy drapes. Inside each fabric cubicle is a large air mattress with two rolled up sleeping bags and two small pillows. And that’s it.

“Well, it’s better than sleeping on the floor,” Cas says, staring down at their makeshift bed.

“It _is_ sleeping on the floor, Cas,” Dean says, dropping his pack and bending down to unroll one of the sleeping bags. “Here, give me a hand with this.”

Dean unzips his sleeping bag all the way and lays it out flat across the entire mattress, then does the same with Cas’s, making a huge sleeping bag sandwich.

“See? At least now we don’t have to sleep in individual pods.”

“It’s almost as good as our bed at home,” Cas replies, sitting tentatively on the edge of the mattress and thereby forcing the opposite side to rise up off the floor.

“Blasphemy,” Dean says, debating whether or not to test how well the mattress holds up to sudden stress by tackling Cas into the bedding.

The air mattress is spared the ordeal when Benny and Andrea stroll into the barn.

“Hello teams one and two! Team three has arrived,” Benny calls out happily.

Cas gets to his feet and he and Dean step out of their curtained boudoir as Sam and Jess emerge from theirs.

“Hey, man. Way to catch up. We thought we’d have at least an hour or so before we started seeing anyone from the second flight.”

Benny shrugs, and Andrea answers. “The pilot said we had a favorable tail wind, and we landed about half an hour after you did.”

“Plus Andrea here didn’t need much coaching in the dancing department, and this is technically my home territory so we made good time on the drive from New Orleans too.”

“Huh,” Dean says, impressed. “Didn’t think bayou canoe trekking was really your thing, though.”

“We cooked rice,” Andrea replies with a wink. “Food _is_ our thing.”

“Even campfire-cooked food,” Benny adds.

“Did you see Jody and Donna there?” Jess asks. “They were ahead of us for a while. We were surprised they didn’t beat us to the mat.”

“They apparently had some trouble getting the fire started, and their first batch of rice wasn’t seasoned right for the judge’s tastes. They were almost done with their second attempt when we left,” Benny says.

“Did you see anyone else?” Sam asks.

“I think everyone’s here now,” Benny says. “No one got swallowed up by the bayou on the way from Baton Rouge.”

“From first to fourth over a pot of rice,” Jody says as she trudges in beside Donna.

Both women are a little sooty and worn out looking, but Donna’s still grinning from ear to ear.

“We forgot the red pepper the first go around, but it was still delicious,” Donna replies.

“Aw, can’t call it cajun rice without the red pepper,” Benny teases back good naturedly.

“Says the cajun chef,” Jody replies, dragging her bag into another cubicle and digging out her shower kit and a fresh set of clothes. “I smell like campfire. I’m gonna find the showers before I even want to look at food again.”

She’s halfway to the door when Ellen and Jo wander in. They’d also done the canoe challenge, and reported that Victor and Ash, as well as Charlie and Gilda were still out on the bayou when they’d finished their last task.

“Shit,” Dean says, pulling Cas aside. “You think Charlie’s gonna be the first one sent home? I mean, this was really her idea in the first place. That would kinda suck.”

“There’s still other teams at the other challenge, Dean. That’s the difficulty of doing a race like this with your friends and family. Someone’s going to come in last on every leg of the race. Only three teams will make it to the end.”

Dean’s not exactly pleased about that reminder, but Cas is right. “At least nobody’s gonna get sent straight back to Kansas. They still get some sorta vacation out of the deal, right?”

Cas grins at him and pulls Dean into a reassuring hug. “Yes, Dean. Whoever is eliminated today will probably have a much more relaxing month than we will. I overheard Sarah talking with Bela about it. They rented a house in Paris for everyone to stay at until the final leg.”

“Paris? So if we just tank the next leg, they’ll fly us to France and put us up for the rest of the month? No more planes and shit? Sounds romantic.”

“Not from the way Bela was describing it,” Cas replies, running a hand down Dean’s back. “All the eliminated teams crammed into a tiny house in Paris, under constant supervision to make sure we don’t wander off and spoil the show for the general public? I think I’ll hold out to try to win a spa vacation on one of the legs instead.”

“Or just win the whole thing.”

Cas laughs in disbelief. “Does this mean you won’t mind all that air travel?”

Dean shrugs. “Kinda seems worth it now. I won’t guarantee I’ll be happy about it, but I’ll deal. Long as you’re there with me.”

Cas kisses him, and Dean’s suddenly debating whether now would be a good time to test the structural soundness of the air mattress when they’re interrupted again by Bobby and Rufus, followed closely by Krissy and Lee. Dean’s nerves get the better of him and at least for right now he’s more concerned about which team’s going to be eliminated than anything else. He does a quick count, and there’s only four teams left to check in. A few minutes later, Victor and Ash make it three.

Several members of the Vermillionville staff begin bringing in trays of food that would have Dean’s mouth watering any other day, but right now he’s too stressed to even think about crawfish and gumbo and whatever else they’re setting out on the long table at the other end of the barn.

Gabriel and Kali check in right after Jody returns from the shower and Donna takes her things to go get freshened up. Cain and Colette show up a few minutes later, and Dean’s heart sinks. That’s ten teams. It’s only Charlie and Gilda who haven’t turned up yet, which means Dean probably won’t see his best friend for a month. He’s just beginning to come to terms with that fact when Charlie and Gilda trudge into the barn looking exhausted and muddy.

Dean shares a nervous glance with Cas and then runs over to help Charlie carry her bag while Cas relieves Gilda of hers.

“What happened, you fall in the lake?” Dean asks.

“Yes,” Gilda replies tersely.

“I stood up to grab a skein of yarn from a basket, but it got caught on a branch and kinda sorta pulled me over the side of the canoe,” Charlie says.

“And took the rest of the canoe with you in the process.” Gilda looks like she’s suffering from trying to contain her grin.

“Frank was not a happy camper. At least the water wasn’t very deep. His camera didn’t even get wet.”

“Getting him back in the boat was a feat, though.”

“Like trying to wrestle an angry crocodile into the canoe, yeah.”

“Aw, Charlie, I’m so sorry,” Dean says, pulling her into a loose hug while still trying to keep most of the drying mud off of himself.

“It’s fine, Dean, I swear.”

“It’s a non-elimination round,” Gilda says. “We get to keep racing tomorrow.”

“And hopefully not fall in another lake,” Charlie adds, pulling away from Dean and stepping over to stand beside Gilda. “We call dibs on the shower.”

“No arguments here,” Dean replies, content that he’ll get to spend at least one more night with all his friends. “You go get cleaned up, then hurry back for the Winchester Wedding Reception Round Three,” he says, pointing to the buffet laid out for them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein llamas are strategically avoided even when there’s no such luck with airplanes.

Dean’s alarm goes off at 5:30, which is an ungodly early time to wake up, but they have to be back on the mat at 5:52 to receive their instructions for the second leg of the race. As close as all the teams were at the last pit stop, he knows that every second counts. He’s loath to nudge Cas awake since it had taken them way too long to get comfortable and fall asleep on the flimsy air bed the night before, but time’s a wastin’ so he gently rubs Cas’s shoulder. Cas pushes his face more firmly against the side of Dean’s neck and groans.

After dinner the night before, while listening to all their friends recount the highlights and lowlights of the first leg of the race to much laughter, teasing, and debating which of their personal humiliations would eventually air on national television, nearly everyone had taken a shift in the shower room to unwind before bed. Dean had encouraged everyone else to go first, and held Cas back with a knowing look. Eventually the few members of the crew who’d stuck around to film some of the revelry (and partake of the buffet) called it a night and headed off to their own separate quarters to sleep.

By the time Dean and Cas made it to the showers, everyone else was already tucked into their sleeping bags for the night. With no pressure to rush, they may have lost track of time between the steam and Cas’s mission to help Dean relax.

The shower facilities are in a separate building and aren’t anything to write home about. It’s just one small room, entirely tiled over aside from a small wooden bench below a couple of hooks to hang their towels on, with a gym-style shower nozzle with a pullcord they have to yank on every couple of minutes to keep the water flowing. What it lacks in water pressure it more than makes up for with heat, and it’s not long before the entire room is steamed over. Most importantly, it has a locking door.

As soon as they’re both wet, Cas rushes through washing both himself and Dean. He squeezes a glob of shampoo atop each of their heads and orders Dean to finish getting clean. Dean had put up with his rapid scrubdown with a bemused grin, but not ten seconds later Cas gives the shower cord another tug to rinse the suds out of his own hair, and then essentially assaults Dean’s scalp when he realizes Dean’s doing nothing to help move things along.

“Hey, whoa.” Dean grabs Cas’s wrists and steps under the shower spray to rinse the bubbles out of his eyes before it can click off again. “You know I waited until everyone else was out cold so we wouldn’t have to rush this, right?”

When Dean finally gets enough of the soap off his face to open his eyes again, he’s met with the glowering face of his husband.

“We have little more than six hours left before we have to be packed up, outside, and ready to start racing again. I’d rather not waste more of that time than I have to on trivialities.”

Dean just blinks at him for a second, still holding on to Cas’s wrists, and watches Cas’s glower turn absolutely predatory. He doesn’t put up any resistance when Cas pulls his hands free and steps right up into his space, pressing his shower-warm skin against Dean’s. The shower nozzle clicks off again and without breaking eye contact with Dean, Cas reaches behind himself to pull it on once more.

Dean stops wasting time on trivialities and dives in for a kiss. By the time the water shuts off again he’s got Cas pinned to the wall and Cas has one leg wrapped around his hip, keeping Dean as close as he can get him. Dean’s gone from slightly bemused bystander to frantically grinding against Cas in less than five minutes, and this time it’s Cas who has to put on the brakes.

Cas clamps his leg tighter around Dean, stilling the motion of his hips, and Dean groans in frustration against the spot above Cas’s collarbone where he’d been sucking a string of marks into his skin.

“We rushed through everything else so we wouldn’t have to rush this,” Cas reminds him, and then drops the leg he’d been holding Dean still with.

He nudges Dean backward just enough so that he has room to move and then slowly kisses his way down Dean’s neck and chest before dropping to his knees in front of him, his thumbs rubbing along Dean’s hips.  Cas looks up at him and wraps one hand around Dean’s cock, giving it a few teasing pulls. Dean throws his head back and gropes around for something to hold on to, but only manages to find the pull cord for the shower nozzle, drenching them both again. Cas guides him backward with his free hand until Dean hits the wall and they’re both out of the spray, and then gives Dean’s hip a little tap. Dean blinks down to see Cas completely ignoring his own erection and grinning up at him.

When he’s sure he has Dean’s full attention, Cas leans in and gives the head of his cock a little kiss, and then a few exploratory licks, before moving his hand and sliding his lips down Dean’s entire length in one go. All the breath leaves Dean’s lungs in a rush and he’s grateful for the wall at his back.

The water clicks off again and the only sounds in the little room are Dean’s bitten-off gasps and moans and the wet noises and occasional rumbling reply from Cas’s mouth. Cas’s hand keeps his hips firmly pressed to the wall, and all Dean can do is watch as Cas works him right up to the edge.

“Cas,” he says, giving his husband a warning and hoping he isn’t being too loud but far too gone to really know. He runs one hand through Cas’s wet hair and Cas rolls his eyes up to meet Dean’s without breaking his pace. The look in Cas’s eyes sends Dean straight over the cliff and he stiffens, bites his lip to keep from shouting Cas’s name, and comes.

Cas works him through it until it’s almost too much for Dean, and then carefully stands up before Dean’s able to stop him. Dean is able to pull Cas in for a devouring kiss, savoring the taste of himself in his husband’s mouth. When he feels Cas’s cock grind against his hip, Dean steers Cas back toward the little bench where they’d stacked their clothes and towels, guiding him down to sit before kneeling between his legs and returning the favor.

When Dean swallows him down, it’s Cas’s turn to bite back a groan of pleasure. Minutes later, he bites down on his knuckles to keep from crying out when he comes, Dean's hands and body the only thing keeping him from sliding off the narrow bench in a blissful, boneless puddle.

They dry off and dress in a contented daze, interrupted with frequent bouts of kissing, and quietly stumble their way back to their semi-private air mattress well after midnight. That’s when they belatedly learn just how uncomfortable and difficult it can be for two adult men to fall asleep on an overtaxed air mattress. Every minute movement they make sends the entire mattress into undulating fits. So that 5:30 alarm is definitely an unwelcome intrusion.

Still, Dean can’t regret the lack of sleep. He figures worst-case scenario, being exhausted might help him sleep through some of the next plane ride he’ll be forced to endure.

“Cas. Babe. Time to get up. Racing to do.”

That’s all it takes for Cas to groggily lever himself up. The movement sets the rest of the mattress jiggling again, and Dean rolls over and gets to his feet before he has to suffer through it any longer. The only dream he can recall having involved being trapped in one of those kids’ party inflatable bouncy houses during a never ending earthquake, and he’s now officially _done_ with air beds for the foreseeable future. He’d rather sleep on the floor. At least the floor doesn’t _bounce_.

He and Cas change quickly and gather all their gear. They’re grateful to find a pot of coffee and a platter of fresh beignets laid out on the buffet table, which makes having to wake up a half an hour before dawn just a little more bearable. On their way to the mat they make a quick stop at the bathroom to brush their teeth and splash cold water on their faces, and then they’re out of time.

Sam and Jess are already waiting at the mat when Dean and Cas arrive. They’re just in time to see the camera light switch on, illuminating Sam and Jess's tired faces, and then their new cameraman for this leg handing them their clue. While Sam and Jess read it aloud, Dean and Cas are distracted from overhearing it when their own new camera man walks up and introduces himself. He proves to be a little more forthcoming than Giggles was, and at least gives them his name. Frank. That’s it.

The moment Sam and Jess take off for the parking lot, Frank pushes Dean and Cas onto the mat. He shoves the clue at Dean and then shoves his camera in their faces. Cas has to hold up one hand to shield his eyes from the bright light glaring at them from atop the camera. It’s annoying, but if they angle the paper just right it gives them enough light to read the clue without having to bust out the dorky strap-on head lamps Cas insisted they buy for the trip.

“ **Drive yourselves to Baton Rouge Airport and fly to Cusco, Peru.”**

“I assume that’s a longer flight than last time,” Dean grumbles, before running off to their car.

Frank climbs into the front seat with all his gear and Cas crawls in behind Dean with both their packs and the map he’d picked up yesterday. He fishes out one of the aforementioned head lamps and immediately sets to work on locating their destination while Dean navigates his way back to the interstate. They catch up to Sam and Jess just before the I-10 on-ramp, and Dean glares at Sam when he slows way down and lets Dean pass. Of course Sam still doesn’t have a map.

“I take it we’ve got the same deal as yesterday with the airport parking?” Dean asks, and Cas pulls the clue out to read through the details.

“It just says to park in the short term lot and leave the keys under the driver’s seat. Nothing about marked spaces.”

Dean just nods and tries to let the drive relax him. He spends the next half hour trying not to think about just how far away Peru is.

They lose Sam and Jess in the parking lot at the airport and don’t find them again until they’ve done a bit of research on the quickest routes to Cusco. Cas waves across the terminal at them and Sam and Jess wave back before darting off to check out flights at another airline.

Dean groans when they determine that the earliest flight out isn’t until that afternoon. All the teams will have easily caught up by then, and the chances that they’ll all end up on the same plane are looking more and more likely.

“There’s no direct flight, but rather than take the latest possible flight to Houston, we could leave now and at least get part of the flying out of the way,” Cas suggests while the ticket agent clacks away at her keyboard.

“There’s a flight leaving for Houston in about forty-five minutes. Would you rather I book you on that one? It’s a longer layover, but you won’t have to rush to make your connection with the Lima flight,” she suggests.

“If it means less running, I’m all for it,” Dean replies.

The woman nods and changes the details. “You still have an overnight layover in Lima, but that will give you plenty of time to get through customs before your Cusco flight.”

“Overnight?” Dean asks, feeling the creeping fear that they haven’t seen any other teams yet, and even Sam and Jess haven’t returned to buy their tickets. Maybe everyone else found a quicker route and are in the process of leaving them in their dust. “Don’t you have anything where we don’t lose a whole day?”

“It’s four hours, not twenty four, Dean.”

Dean takes a deep breath, shrugs, and tells the agent to book it. He nearly chokes when she tells him the total cost, but then he happily hands over the TV network’s credit card to pay for it.

“Two long breaks between flights,” Cas says, studying their tickets as they hurry toward their gate. “And the longest flight is six and a half hours.”

“Well, I guess it’s time to find out if I can sleep on a plane,” Dean replies, as he hands his first boarding pass to the gate agent and gears up for twenty two hours of torture.

The flight to Houston is quick and uneventful, other than Dean’s surprise when the pilot announces they’re approaching their destination about fifteen minutes after the announcement that they’d reached cruising altitude. Between the ease of the first flight, Cas’s utter delight at Dean’s bewilderment over that fact, and a relaxing and stress-free four hours spent lounging and wandering leisurely around the Houston airport, Dean has almost forgotten they’re still running a race.

They’re the first team to board the plane for Lima, and only begin to get concerned when none of the other teams have arrived ten minutes before their scheduled departure time. Dean checks his watch again and exchanges a nervous glance with Cas.

“This is the only flight today to Lima, right?”

Cas nods. “From Houston, yes. There’s another from Dallas, and one through Miami that other teams might be able to make if they miss this flight, but that would give us a several hour lead over all the other teams.”

“Unless they found a better flight that we missed,” Dean says. “Maybe we wasted four hours being dopey fucking tourists in Houston Airport while everyone else is somewhere over the Amazon by now.”

“I don’t think so, Dean.” Cas gives him a serene and confident smile, and then reaches up to brush the pained look off Dean’s face with his fingertips. “And even if they did, I rather enjoyed playing dopey tourist with you.”

Dean lets himself relax into the touch, leaning his cheek into Cas’s palm. From their vantage point in the first row of the coach class section they can see the front of the plane, and therefore have perfect seats to watch Benny barrel aboard with Andrea at his heels.

“Whooo, I think we made it by the skin of our teeth,” he says, grinning at the flight attendant who directs them to their seats.

Benny pauses to thump Dean on the shoulder as he passes by, and says, “We all wondered what happened to you two. We were beginning to think we wouldn’t see you until Cusco.”

“We took an earlier flight so we wouldn’t find ourselves in your current predicament,” Cas replies with a shrug.

“Speaking of your current predicament, where’s everyone else?” Dean asks, looking around for Sam, or Charlie, or _anyone_.

“We were delayed taking off, but not everyone was able to get tickets for this flight anyway,” Benny replies, then heads back toward where Andrea’s already settling in for the long flight.

“Not everyone made it?” Dean asks, the ghost of terrible past flying experiences creeping up on him again.

“They likely took one of the other routes,” Cas replies.

Dean relaxes a minute later when Sam and Jess turn up out of breath and requesting they hold the door for just another minute. Krissy and Lee show up next, followed immediately by Jody and Donna. As soon as they’re through the door, the flight attendant shuts it behind them and the captain comes over the speakers to welcome them aboard.

One thing Dean learns about international air travel is that they actually serve pretty decent food. He tries his hardest not to think of it as his last meal, and by the time he’s finishing up the little slice of chocolate cake his exhaustion has begun to catch up with him. He yawns when the attendant clears away their trays, and Cas pulls out the blanket he’d grabbed from one of the overhead bins when they’d first boarded.

“Blanket smells weird,” Dean says, snuggling down against Cas’s shoulder as he spreads the blanket over both of them.

“It just doesn’t smell like home,” Cas says, resting his head atop Dean’s.

Dean rolls his head around until his face is pressed into Cas’s shoulder. Cas _does_ smell like home. That’s the last thing he remembers until Cas pokes him awake when they land in Lima.

They trudge half-asleep and groggy through the customs line and then crash for a few more hours on a couple of uncomfortable benches. Their cameramen all huddle together at the other end of the gate waiting area, grateful to have some down time amongst company they’re actually allowed to talk to. None of the other teams have caught up by the time they’re getting in line to board the plane, but there are regular flights to Cusco throughout the day and Cas convinces Dean not to worry.

“You should be glad you made the first flight of the day, boss man,” Krissy says. “You’ve got less competition this way, especially up in the mountains.”

“Why’s that?” Dean asks, actually grateful for Krissy’s teasing. He’s been having good luck with planes so far, but he’s still not committed to air travel as a less than idiotically terrifying activity yet.

“The air’s thinner at that altitude,” Cas says. “It can be difficult to adapt to, and it will be easier if we’re not hurrying and overexerting ourselves.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s a serious concern, Dean. Some people react poorly to the sudden change in altitude,”

“I’ve been in the mountains before, Cas. Just because I live in Kansas doesn’t mean I’ve never _left_ Kansas.”

Cas continues to give him a doubtful squint, and Dean gives up. He hasn’t had any coffee yet, and isn’t South America supposed to be practically swimming in the stuff?

“You know how I used to take off and drive when I needed to work through my shit?” Dean asks, much quieter now, just for Cas’s benefit.

Cas smiles at him and nods. It’s how Dean spent most of the night before they’d finally agreed to meet in person. Dean knows he’s told Cas he drove most of the way out to Colorado that night before he’d felt settled enough to turn around and head back home. It wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination the longest impulsive drive Dean’s ever taken.

“Well I used to do that a lot. Sometimes I’d take off Friday after work and just head out to Montana, or Utah, or New Mexico, Colorado. Wherever. Unless we’re heading up to Everest Base Camp or some shit, I’ll be fine.”

“Says here Cusco’s at over 11,000 feet,” Sam says, conspicuously waving a brochure with a clearly printed map inside it.

“Hey, where’d you get that?” Dean asks, and Sam just grins and shrugs.

“I got one too,” Cas replies, handing it to Dean.

“Can’t even function at sea level, Dean?” Sam teases, before Jess punches him on the arm and tells him to cork it.

“I’ve been to Taos.” Dean says with a shrug. “Couple places in Colorado that were about that high. Got a little headachey for a day or two, but I was fine.”

“We should all remember to take it easy until we’re sure,” Donna says. “I wouldn’t want anyone making themselves sick just to win a race.”

The flight to Cusco is even shorter than the first leg of their trip to Houston was, and Dean feels the altitude the moment the plane’s door is opened. It’s just a little harder to breathe and everything feels just a little heavier, including such important things as his own hands and feet. None of the teams are up for running when they finally get out into the terminal. Sam and Jess take an early lead just because they both have a longer stride than everyone else, but their substantially shorter cameraman is struggling to keep up.

Frank gasps out his gratitude to Dean and Cas for not dragging him through the airport at top speed and giving him a chance to acclimate.

“We’ll probably catch up to them at the taxi stand, or at the very least at the train station,” Cas reassures him.

“So what’s at Aguas Calientas?” Dean asks. “Other than hot water? You think we’re gonna have to swim?”

Cas chuckles a little bit. “I don’t believe so. It’s the town closest to Machu Picchu.”

“Huh,” Dean says, and picks up the pace a little bit. He’s not feeling too bad yet, maybe a little out of breath, but nothing he can’t handle so far. “You doing all right?”

Cas takes his hand and smiles, his cheeks a little pink from the exertion of just walking through the terminal and out into the Southern Hemisphere’s cool late fall air. “So much better than all right.”

They get outside to find Sam leaning on Jess and looking a little disoriented. Dean detours over to his brother almost on reflex and asks if he’s doing okay.

“He’ll be fine,” Jess reassures him, while Sam nods and gulps for air. “I think the air’s just a little bit thinner up at sasquatch altitude than it is down here at normal people levels.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam insists. “You better get a move on. The rest of the crew is catching up.”

Dean looks off down the sidewalk to see their equally dazed friends slowly trudging toward them.

“It’s like a goddamn snail race,” Dean says. “You sure you’re fine?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sam replies, rolling his eyes.

Jess pulls out a chocolate bar and a bottle of water, and pushes them into Sam’s hands before pushing Sam into a cab. “We’ll see you in a few, I guess.” She winks at Dean and then they’re zooming off into the mid-morning airport traffic.

There are only three daily trains out to Aguas Calientas, and everyone on their morning flight books tickets on the first train, departing almost immediately after their arrival at the station. The next train out isn’t for another hour, and by Cas’s calculations, everyone who was able to make the next flight to Cusco should also theoretically make that train if they don’t get stuck in traffic or get lost on the way to the station.

Sitting on the train with nothing else to do but worry for the next four hours or so gives Dean a chance to catch his breath. Literally. He hadn’t wanted to make a big deal of it back at the airport when Sam seemed to be struggling far more with the altitude, but he had that telltale headache and shortness of breath he remembered experiencing when he’d driven through Taos a few years back.

“We’re actually descending into a valley,” Cas observes at one point, and then pulls out some tourist pamphlets he’d picked up at the airport in Lima. They’re all in Spanish, but he translates most of the relevant information for Dean, and just hearing Cas talk about interesting little trivialities does wonders to keep Dean calm.

“Listen to this, Dean. There is a herd of wild llamas that roam throughout Machu Picchu.”

“As long as they stay away from me, I’m cool with them.”

“When hiking the trail from Cusco to Machu Picchu, porters sleep with a shiny metal object beneath them in order to prevent spirits from rising up from the earth and claiming them.”

“Fuck that. Good thing we’re on the train.”

“Hmm, yes. It takes about five days to hike each direction. I don’t think that would’ve made for a practical race leg anyway.”

And on and on it goes. Dean occasionally gets up to check on Sam, who improves by the hour as the decrease in altitude and plain old time to sit and rest do their work. He checks on everyone else, too. It is technically his fault they’re all on this train to begin with, so it only makes sense for him to use that fact to mother hen the hell out of everyone. Aside from a few headaches and a little dehydration, everyone else is holding together pretty well, and that eases Dean’s worry even more.

When the train pulls into the Aguas Calientas station, everyone’s ready to make a dash for their next clue box. Dean winces when he sees the Speed Bump sign, pointing the way to the special task that only Charlie and Gilda have to complete as the last team to check in at the last pit stop. He spends a second hoping it’s nothing too physically demanding, since the altitude’s still giving him enough trouble that running doesn’t sound like very much fun. Not that it does on a normal day at home, but this is a special level of not fun.

Cas retrieves their next clue and everybody’s off and, if not running, at least kind of walking fast toward their next task.

**“Take the bus to Machu Picchu and search the grounds for the local shaman. Participate in a ceremonial offering to Pachamama, or mother earth, for health and prosperity. When you’ve been blessed, you will receive for your next clue. Warning: Detour ahead.”**

“I could use a blessing about now,” Dean says, collapsing into the first available seat on the bus. “At least there’s plenty of sitting to break up all the standing.”

Krissy laughs from the seat behind him and flicks the back of his head. “Old man.”

“Twenty four ain’t old, kiddo,” Dean replies. “Right Cas? We’re at that peak age when we’ve still got some kick, but we’ve learned enough to use it wisely.”

Cas snorts, and then wisely uses Dean’s shoulder as a pillow for the remainder of the short drive to the entrance to the ruins. Unfortunately Dean nods off again as well, and that allows Krissy and Lee to get the jump on them when the bus pulls to a stop. It doesn’t matter in the end, because all five teams are greeted by an old woman wrapped in blankets and wearing a colorful little knit cap with tasseled ear flaps, and then welcomed into a circle around a sweetly scented fire.

“God, I’m hungry,” Dean says, pointing at the fire as the shaman begins her ritual. “Is that making anyone else hungry?”

“It’s the aroma of burning herbs, Dean. You just had a sandwich on the train. Now pay attention so you can be properly blessed.”

Dean shrugs, but politely accepts a potato from the shaman. As instructed, they each take a turn placing their potatoes in a large stone offering bowl while the shaman blesses them and then they’re being handed their next clue.

**“DETOUR: Corralled on Earth, or Ascend to Heaven.”**

The corral task involves harnessing two llamas and leading them down the mountain to a pen where they have to shear them and collect their wool, and then deliver it to a weaver back at the market near the train station. The ascent is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It’s a fairly long hike straight to the pinnacle of Huayna Picchu, the tallest peak towering above the ancient city, to claim their next clue. Dean can feel his lungs screaming just looking up at the summit above them.

“What do you think?” Dean asks, feeling uncertain about their choices for the first time on this race.

Their foolproof plan for making decisions has derailed halfway through the second leg. Normally they’d choose whichever activity didn’t involve the necessary cooperation of large and potentially disagreeable animals, so that would automatically rule out the first option. But Dean’s not even sure the second option is physically possible.

“I’d prefer to hike, if you think you’re up to it,” Cas says.

“You don’t think that’ll kill us?” Dean points up at the mountain looming over them, but Cas shrugs.

“One of the brochures I read on the train says it’s about an hour and a half up, and then forty five minutes back down.”

“Jesus, Cas. I think I’d rather take a llama for a walk.”

“All the way back to town?” Cas says with a grin. “Hike for two hours and see one of the most exclusive and breathtaking views in the Western Hemisphere followed by a comfortable bus ride back to the train station, or drag a grumpy llama four miles down the mountain, shave it, then haul its stinky, itchy wool through the market trying to find one specific weaver to deliver it to?”

Dean considers that for a few seconds as he watches everyone else head off toward the llama enclosure. He takes a deep breath of the too-thin air, grabs Cas’s hand, and turns toward the hiking trail.

“If we die up there, at least it’ll be in a romantic setting, I guess,” Dean says.

“A romantic _llama-free_ setting,” Cas adds.

They leave their packs at the trail head, keeping only their race pouches and a couple of bottles of water. Frank’s not so lucky, because he still has to haul his camera equipment up the steep path.

“We can take turns carrying it if you need a break, dude,” Dean says after they’ve been walking for five minutes or so.

“I’ll keep that under consideration,” is all Frank says in reply.

The views are gorgeous, Dean can’t deny, and he and Cas keep stopping just to look. Frank does eventually hand over his equipment bag, which Dean and Cas take turns lugging the rest of the way up the mountain, but he retains sole control over the camera.

At the summit they find a clue box, but Frank makes them wait while he swaps out a fresh memory card and then resumes filming them read the clue. Well, Cas reads the clue. Dean gives up after the first few words.

**“Return to Cusco and take a taxi to the Museo de Plantas Sagradas Magicas y Medicinales. Warning, Roadblock ahead.”**

“Shit, they made us come all the way up here and we don’t even get to hang around long enough to enjoy the view?” Dean asks, throwing an arm around Cas’s shoulders and pointing out over the valley below them. “This is incredible. We’re on a different continent. Hell, a different _hemisphere_. Looking out over ancient ruins from a mountaintop. This is nuts.”

Cas laughs and squeezes Dean tight. “I’m glad you’re getting into the spirit of the race, Dean. I take it this means you’re okay with all the airplane trips now?”

“Fuck, no,” Dean replies, kissing Cas and then letting him go in order to pick up Frank’s bag. “But I’ll happily deal with them to get to do shit like this with you.”

“I just wish we had a camera,” Cas says.

“Uh, I don’t know if you noticed, but this dude standing behind us has been pointing a camera at us all damn day,” Dean says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder in Frank’s direction.

Cas turns around and gives the man a considering look before turning back to Dean. “We should capture this moment for posterity then,” he says, dropping to the ground and pulling Dean after him before turning to Frank and briefly explaining their long history of foot selfies.

Frank looks at them like they’re both nuts, but waits until Dean and Cas can dangle their entwined feet over the edge of the cliff before taking a few seconds of video from directly above their shoulders. He rewinds it, even though it’s technically against the rules, and lets them confirm that yeah, they really did want just a picture of their feet and the valley beyond. Cas thanks him profusely while Dean just smiles and shrugs apologetically at their bewildered cameraman.

They take one last look around, and then begin their descent back to the train station. It is a really long way to go to prove a point, but as far as Dean’s concerned, it’s all been worth it.

About fifteen minutes after they find their clue and have made it about halfway back down the mountain, they run into the first team they’ve seen in well over an hour. They stop for a minute to check in with Gabriel and Kali and learn that all the rest of the teams have finally made it to Machu Picchu with the exception of Victor and Ash, who had to stay behind in Cusco. Apparently Ash wasn’t coping well with the altitude and had to be put on emergency oxygen.

Kali assures them that he’ll be fine, but that he and Victor made the executive decision to drop out of the race. A few other teams are struggling, but they’re still pushing through it, and Dean’s instantly worried for all the friends he dragged into this again.

Gabriel smacks him on the side of the head and gapes at him like he thinks Dean’s being a moron.

“This is the most insane wedding party I’ve ever been to, and I’d sign up to do it all over again next month,” Gabriel tell him seriously. “Don’t piss on all our daisies with your woe-is-me act. Strap on your party hat and start dancing, boys, or you’re gonna find yourselves gettin’ shuffled off to some Parisian hovel for the next three weeks while the rest of us whoop it up without you.”

Kali shrugs her shoulders and then trots off after Gabe toward the summit.

“He has a point, Dean.” Cas sets off down the slope again, and it’s Frank who has to turn around and snap Dean out of the state of shock he’s worked himself up into.

“Get a move on, Buster Brown. Some of us are looking forward to a nice, long four hours of sitting on our asses after this.”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to hide his grin, then sets off at a jog to catch up to Cas. He catches Cas’s hand in his, leans in to kiss Cas’s cheek, and they practically fly back to the bottom of the mountain.

They pass Charlie and Gilda a few minutes later, and then don’t see another team until just before their bus arrives back at the train station. In a corral about half a mile from town, several teams wrestle with bundles of llama wool, while several other teams are still wrestling with distraught, half-shaved llamas-- including Sam and Jess.

“I’m glad you talked me outta that,” Dean says, horrified at the sight.

Cas smiles serenely, watching Sam futilely try to calm his llama while Jess clips off its wool.

They’ve got a little over an hour to wait for the first of the three return trains to Cusco, so they buy their tickets, leave Frank lounging in the train station’s waiting area, and take a quick walk around the local market.

“We can’t actually carry any of this shit with us, Cas,”

His husband had stopped to admire a gorgeous hand-woven blanket in rich tones of blue, green, gold, purple, and red. If they had any way to actually lug the thing all around the world with them, Dean would buy it without a second thought.

“I know, but I’d like to get something to remember today.”

“What, you’re actually worried you’re gonna forget this? We’re being filmed nonstop. I think Frank’s even got me scratching my ass on camera.”

Cas sighs and lets the blanket fall from his fingers.

“We ship worldwide,” the woman running the booth says, slapping a blank UPS shipping form down on top of the blanket. “Too much to carry, we send home for you.”

Dean grins at her, and then at Cas. He reaches for his wallet and asks how much. The shipping ends up costing more than the blanket, but he doesn’t care. This is sort of their honeymoon, after all.

They wander back toward the train station with a few minutes left before their scheduled departure time to find most of the other teams in various states of exhaustion and splayed out around the station. Jess is still picking llama fur off Sam’s clothes, Jody and Donna are sitting in one corner slumped against the wall looking dazed, and Krissy’s trying to stretch the kinks out of her shoulders. Dean walks past her and leans in to ask, “So who’s the old man now, eh?”

“Llamas suck,” she replies. “That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“They spit, too,” Lee adds with a grin at his daughter. “That bears mentioning, too.”

“Ugh.”

“Where’s Bobby and Rufus, and Ellen and Jo?” Cas asks, after looking around the entire waiting room.

“Still llama shaving, last we saw them,” Colette replies. “We only just got here ourselves. I’m thinking they’re not gonna make this train.”

Dean feels Cas flinch at his side, his hand gripping Dean’s tighter. And god he feels a little bit like a dick. He doesn’t want to squash all the fun out of this trip, and if he keeps trying to pull his usual bullshit and worry about everyone and everything, that’s exactly what he’s gonna do. Dammit, they’re still racing, and teams are gonna get eliminated at every pit stop. They all knew this when they signed up. Hell, he and Cas could get eliminated too, if he doesn’t get his shit together. He pulls Cas in for a hug and feels the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t trade this for anything, Cas.” Dean mumbles in his ear, and then kisses his temple. “Just thought you should know that.”

 

It’s after dark by the time they roll into the train station in Cusco and hail a cab to their next destination. Cas handles all the conversation with the driver, who tries to convince them that the museum they want to go to is closed for the night and does his best to tempt them to a dozen other potential destinations, but Cas persists and the man eventually relents and drives them where they want to go.

The Museum of Sacred, Medicinal, and Magical Plants definitely sounds like something made up, but there it is. The museum might be closed for the day, but their outdoor cafe stayed open just for them. Dean and Cas find the clue box first, followed shortly by Benny and Andrea, and then Jody and Donna.

**“ROADBLOCK: Who needs to feel the heat?”**

“I guess it’s my turn,” Dean says, and Cas happily hands over the clue.

“That seems fair.”

Dean grabs the envelope and tears it open to see what awful fate he’s in for. He only half-hopes it’s something food related, since they are at a cafe. He and Cas got dinner on the train, and he’s worked his way through most of Cas’s granola bar stash, but he’s still starving. Feeling the heat doesn’t exactly sound encouraging for a snack, though. Especially not for some sort of eating challenge, so he’s relieved when he reads the rest of his instructions.

“Prepare traditional Incan hot chocolate and serve it with picarones to four customers in order to receive your next clue.”

Dean ends up racing Benny and Jody to the small kitchen at the far end of the crowded and noisy patio to learn how to make the spicy, milky beverage. Dean’s batch passes the chef’s taste test on the first try, and he’s given a tray with four cups of it and an assortment of what look like lumpy donuts that smell like honey and orange and have his mouth watering. He carefully navigates his way through the packed courtyard filled with a boisterous group of patrons and a local band providing the customers some raucous entertainment. Amid the chaos and cacophony, Dean has to find the correct table to deliver his order to while everyone at the other tables does their best to distract him and convince him to serve them instead. He finally serves the correct table and then races back to the chef to collect his clue. In what has to be the most wonderful surprise event of the day, the chef also hands over one of the sticky donuts with an excited nod.

Dean assumes the dude heard him groaning to Benny about not getting to taste the treats and made one special for him. Dean thanks him profusely, and then races off to find Cas, donut in hand to share with him.

He hugs Cas first and hands over the clue.

“Where’d you get a picarone?” Cas asks as Dean breaks it in half and gives one of the pieces to Cas while shoving the other in his mouth with a moan.

“‘S that wha i’s called?” It’s sweet and warm and gooey, and Dean’s tempted to run back for another until Cas tears their new envelope open.

**“Take a taxi to Qurikancha temple and Sacred Garden, and then search the grounds for the next Pit Stop. Warning, the last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

Neither of them say it, but they share a knowing look since Victor and Ash have already effectively resigned this leg of the race. Right now it’s all just a matter of finishing order. After Sam stole their first victory right from under their noses at the last pit stop, Dean’s determined not to let that happen again. For the first time since the race began, Dean looks around and grins because he doesn’t see any of the other teams. The only thing out front of the museum is the line of taxis that brought them all there in the first place, waiting to carry them away again.

They find their cab still parked right where they left it. They shove their bags into the back seat and tumble in after them. Frank barely gets his door shut when their previously reluctant driver takes Cas’s direction to step on it seriously and zips away from the curb like his life depends on getting them to the temple.

Only a few minutes later he pulls to a stop in front of a wide, brightly lit lawn dotted with boulders and framed by a huge stone cathedral. Cas throws a wad of cash at the driver and they’re out the door and running flat out across the park while shedding their heavy packs along the way.

It’s the first time they’ve felt like running since arriving in Peru, and Dean’s impressed with himself for not feeling an overwhelming urge to drop dead from the sudden exertion. Must be the adrenaline rush of seeing Bela standing at the mat on the highest terrace of the garden. He huffs his way up the final flight of stairs with Cas at his side and they emerge into a ring of stones with a single larger stone set at its hub. That’s where Bela and another woman dressed in traditional Peruvian attire await them.

The local woman greets them with, “Rimaykullayki, welcome to Cusco.”

Dean is not surprised at all when Cas smiles warmly at her and replies, “Agradiseyki.” He has no idea what Cas said, but he assumes it wasn’t anything rude or inappropriate, especially after the woman returns Cas’s smile, looking very pleased with him.

“Well, look at you, Castiel! You’re only here for a day and already you’ve picked up the local language?” Bela asks. “I can see that particular talent being an advantage on this race.”

Dean just grins and pulls Cas to his side while Cas tries to shrug it off.

“We had an hour to kill waiting for our return train in Aguas Calientas, and I spent some of that time learning a few useful Quechua phrases while Dean was occupied making a purchase.”  
“Yes, I heard about the blanket you boys bought today.”

Dean squirms a little, wondering how she managed to hear anything about what they’ve been up to all day, when Frank comes trudging up the stairs behind them. Dean shoots a little glare at the man, but he just shrugs. He’s just doing his job, sending regular updates to the race coordinators. Cas notices where Dean’s attention has gone and gives him a squeeze to get his attention back where it’s supposed to be.

“Well, I have excellent news for you both; you are team number one!”

Dean lets out a huge sigh and collects Cas up into his arms for a hug. Bella keeps talking while they’re busy having their moment of relief.

“As the winners of this leg of the race, you’ll each receive five thousand dollars! Congratulations!”

Frank waits a couple of beats and then unceremoniously tugs them out of the camera lights. Just as soon as their off-camera celebration starts, another team is huffing their way to the mat. Benny and Andrea receive their greeting from the local woman and Bela pronounces them team number two before they’re also shuffled aside to make way for Krissy and Lee.

“Looks like we just missed the rush,” Dean says, as Frank leads him and Cas back down to where they’d abandoned their bags in the garden.

“Ten thousand dollars,” Cas says. “I guess we could plan a pretty spectacular honeymoon with that.”

Dean laughs. “I’d say this already is a pretty spectacular honeymoon.”

“I’d say so, too,” Cas replies, grinning at Dean and then impulsively pulling him in for a kiss.

They nearly stumble over one of the stones set into the garden, and Frank scolds them for not paying attention to where they’re going. When they reach their bags, Frank hands them directions to the nearby hotel they’re required to stay at for the next twelve hours. It’s only a block away, so they decide to walk.

As soon as they’re inside their room, Dean sets his alarm to go off in eleven hours and collapses face-first onto bed. He doesn’t expect to sleep that long, but just in case, it’s always better to be safe than sorry. It would suck to come in first, miss their morning flight out to whatever their next destination will be, and get eliminated because they overslept.

“You’re not even going to wait and see where everyone finished?” Cas asks while pulling off his hiking boots.

Dean grumbles something unintelligible into his pillow.

“Would you at least consider removing your shoes, then?”

Dean peels himself off the bed and twists around to unlace his boots. “We should probably get something to eat, but it’s pretty late.”

“Hmm. It’s after eleven. We could sleep now and get an early breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” Dean replies, standing up to dig through his pack for his toothbrush. “Wonder how Victor and Ash are doing.”

“I overheard Charlie and Gilda talking on the train back from Machu Picchu. Apparently they went back to Lima and Ash is doing much better at sea level. They’re flying out to Paris tomorrow.”

Dean’s relieved they’re gonna be okay, but if you’d asked him yesterday, he would’ve said Victor and Ash got the better end of the bargain getting to spend the next few weeks just hanging out in one place and not having to do all this crazy crap. Today, though, no matter how exhausted he feels, he wouldn’t trade places with them for a million bucks.

He wanders into the bathroom and gets a look at himself in the mirror. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and he looks like a scruffy mess. Cas sidles up next to him at the sink and grins at him in the mirror before brushing his teeth.

“Shower now or in the morning?” Dean asks around his toothbrush.

Cas rinses and spits and gives him a considering look before pulling off his shirt. “I think it will be much more pleasant to sleep once we’re clean.”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it,” Dean agrees, tossing his own shirt off. “We’ve been wearing these clothes way too long.”

“And exerting ourselves mountaineering.”

“At least we don’t smell like llama.”

Cas laughs at that, and then turns on the shower to let it warm up while they strip off the rest of their clothing. Their second and far more enthusiastic celebration of their victory leaves them both content and warm, and they spend a very comfortable night in a far more comfortable bed than they’ve had since they left home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean gets to face multiple fears, including but not limited to heights and sheer boredom.

Dean wakes up at 7:03 am and feels like he’s slept far too long, somehow. He’d gotten used to waking up before dawn over the last two days, and he’s pleasantly surprised that they still have a few hours before they need to report to the mat to start the next leg. He rolls over in Cas’s arms, and is even more pleasantly surprised to find Cas awake and smiling down at him.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“What, no ketchup greeting?”

Cas looks really confused for a second, and then gets it. “It’s Quechua, Dean, and no. I only learned how to say hello, thank you, and how to ask where the bathroom is.”

Dean laughs and kisses him, because that is fucking adorable. “At least you got the most important shit covered.”

“Knowing how to find the bathroom is just practical. Hello and thank you are more strategic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asks, strategically pulling Cas down for another kiss.

“We were greeted in Vermillionville in Cajun. I wasn’t sure if we’d be greeted here in Spanish or Quechua, and I wanted to cover my bases.”

“You keeping a tally or something?”

“Actually, yes,” Cas replies, pulling away from Dean and reaching over the side of his bed for the tiny notebook he keeps in the front pocket of his backpack. “You never know what details we’ll need to remember for the final leg.”

“If we even make it that far,” Dean says, and Cas frowns at him. “I’m just saying, this is only the second leg. There’s what? Nine more? We shouldn’t count our chickens yet.”

“I’d prefer to be prepared for the eventuality either way,” Cas replies, showing Dean the meticulous notes he’s kept on everything from the locations they’ve visited and the tasks they’ve performed all the way to the various flights and trains and cabs they’ve taken.

“Well, then, if we make it to the end, you’re doing whatever that last task is.”

Cas just grins at him. “That’s the plan, Dean.”

 

After another half an hour taking full advantage of having a real bed in a private room with four walls and a door, they put on fresh clothes and repack their bags with their dirty clothes on the bottom.

“I hope we’ll have access to our other supplies soon,” Cas says. “I’d like to restock our snacks, and I’m almost out of clean socks.”

“Speaking of snacks,” Dean says, zipping up his bag, “We’ve got plenty of time for breakfast. You wanna go see if we can find any of the others and get an update?”

They wander down to the hotel’s private courtyard and find Ellen, Jo, Bobby, and Rufus sharing a pot of coffee and finishing up the remains of what seems to have once been a huge breakfast.

“Hey, guys, long time no see,” Dean says, pulling out a chair at the table next to theirs. “How’s it going?”

“It’ll be going better when we get down outta these damn mountains,” Rufus says.

Bobby rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his coffee. “We’re doin’ fine, boy. We’re all still alive, anyway.”

“Don’t mind them,” Jo says in mock confidentiality. “They learned the hard way that llamas suck.”

“Huh, that’s exactly what Krissy said,” Cas replies, just as a waitress shows up with a pot of coffee and an assortment of pastries for them.

Dean tucks into his breakfast while Cas pours them some coffee.

“I take it you boys did the mountain climbing, then?” Ellen asks.

“Cas already knew llamas sucked,” Dean replies with a grin.

“The view from the mountaintop was spectacular,” Cas says. “The climb was difficult, but it was worth it.”

Dean nods and agrees as articulately as he can with a mouth full of food.

“Wonder where they’re sending us next?” Jo asks.

Dean checks his watch. “No idea, but we’re gonna find out in about an hour and a half.”

Jo groans. “Ugh, we’ve got about three hours to wait still.”

“We’ll probably all get caught up at the airport together anyway,” Cas says.

They spend the next hour sharing similar conversations with the rest of their friends as they trickle into the courtyard for breakfast. The eight top finishing teams all have departure times within about twenty minutes of each other, and so they all decide to set out from the hotel together. Jo, Ellen, Rufus, and Bobby choose to hang out at the hotel for another few hours rather than stand around in the park with nothing better to do until their time at the pit stop is up.

Dean and Cas are greeted by their new cameraman, who gruffly introduces himself as Phil, points a camera in their faces, and hands them their next clue. They know the drill now, so Cas tears it open and they read it aloud.

“ **Take a taxi to Cusco airport and fly to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil**.”

“Hot damn,” Dean whoops, and then they’re running across the garden to hail a cab.

Dean doesn’t even care that they have to fly back through Lima in order to get a flight to Rio. By the time they leave Lima, all ten teams are aboard the same plane for the first time since the race began. Cas reads and rereads the clue, and then begins his research.

“ **Find one of the marked cars in the lot outside the terminal and drive yourselves to the Corcovado Train Station. Use the enclosed ticket vouchers to board the train. At the end of the line, find a man of the cloth who will hand you your next clue**.”

Dean spends the first hour of the flight trying to sleep and utterly failing. So much for getting a great night’s sleep in Cusco. Despite his current restlessness, he’s slowly coming to grips with his previous hatred of air travel through sheer persistence and force of will, and he gives most of the credit for that to Cas.

Cas, meanwhile, spends the first hour of their flight from Lima to Rio making friends and chatting up a few people in Portuguese. Dean knows he’s more fluent in Spanish, but he also knows that Cas knows that _Sam_ speaks enough Spanish to eavesdrop on his scheming, so broken Portuguese on the pretense of brushing up before they land in Rio it is. Cas can be a devious and sneaky bastard when he wants to, and Dean’s not about to stand in his way. He’s having too much fun sneaking glances at Sam’s frustrated attempts to overhear and decipher Cas’s conversation.

By the time Cas returns to his seat when the flight attendants begin serving dinner, he’s grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Dean tries to pry what Cas learned from his new Brazilian friends out of him, but Cas just nods assuredly like he’s got everything under control. Of course Dean trusts him completely. Now that Cas is back in the seat beside him and they’ve had a decent dinner, not to mention the comfort of having Cas’s insider information on navigating Rio, neither of them has any trouble sleeping for the rest of the overnight flight.

By the time they land in Rio and get through customs, Cas has somehow snagged a map and guidebook of the city and begun plotting their course to their first destination. Dean turns around as they’re exiting the terminal and watches the rest of the teams scramble at the information kiosk, trying to get directions from an undercaffeinated attendant who only speaks enough English to tell them that he doesn’t speak any English. He and Cas grin all the way to their car as the sun just begins to peek over the horizon.

Much to Dean’s relief, Cas takes a turn driving. Not only can he read the signs, he’s apparently memorized all the twisty, obscure turns that constitute the fastest possible route to the train station.

“You need me to man the map?” Dean asks as Cas turns out of the airport parking lot. He watches Sam lead the charge, running out ahead of the remaining teams descending on the other nine marked cars in the lot like a swarm of kamikaze bees.

He catches a glimpse of Cas looking back at him in the rear view mirror and grins at his husband, knowing he’s thinking exactly the same thing.

“I’ve got this, Dean.”

“Rush hour in Rio, eh?” Dean says nervously, glancing out the back window every few minutes to see if any of the other teams are catching up with them as the morning rush begins in earnest and the roads become more and more congested with commuters.

“If we’re stuck in traffic, so are they,” Cas reminds him in his customary Dean-calming tone.

“Yeah,” Dean says, turning back around and forcing himself to chill. “I guess.”

Despite the steadily increasing traffic, and Dean’s steadily increasing nerves about all the other teams having found some direct, miraculously traffic-free route and beaten them to the train station, they pull into the parking lot ten minutes before eight am. They’ve already run through the debate of whether or not it’s safe to leave their backpacks in the trunk and they’ve agreed it’s worth the risk, considering their destination and the fact Cas repeatedly assures him they’ll have to take the train back to this location when they’re done with this particular task, whatever it may be. There’s only one way to and from the huge statue of Christ the Redeemer overlooking the city from its mountaintop perch, and that’s the Corcovado train they’ve currently got two tickets to ride. Bless the nice new friends Cas made on the plane for sharing that little tidbit.

Cas pulls the ticket vouchers from his race bag while running for the ticket booth. Dean and Phil rush across the parking lot to catch up with him but barely escape being run over by Jody zooming into the tiny lot, with Sam right on her bumper. Dean waits a second for his heart to restart, staring into Jody’s horrified and apologetic face, and then groans. Cas hears him, but he’s apparently missed all the excitement of their near-collision while he was busy at the ticket booth. He flashes the tickets he’s just been handed and urgently points across the platform at the waiting train before making a dash toward the open door. Dean hurries to catch up to his husband and jumps aboard the train, finally slumping into the seat next to Cas. Phil opts to stand, huffing to catch his breath but dutifully recording everything.

“I think we’re the only team here so far,” Cas says, looking around the mostly empty car. “The train leaves in five minutes and there’s not another one until 8:30, so there’s a good chance we’ll have a half hour lead on the rest of the teams.

Dean groans again, still not fully recovered from his near death experience. “Jody and Donna tried to flatten me in the parking lot just now, and Sam and Jess are right behind them.”

Cas twists around just in time to see Jody and Donna running for the train while Sam and Jess trade their vouchers in for tickets and then turn to race Jody and Donna to the door. They all make it aboard with less than a minute to spare, and then they’re off and rolling out of the city and into the rainforest.

“Holy shit this is amazing,” Sam says, finally getting settled in his seat and taking a look out the window.

“Maybe not the best choice of words considering the destination, babe,” Jess replies.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“I’m not offended,” Donna says. “The view is absolutely something else.”

“We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Jody adds.

The twenty minute ride up the mountain to the monument takes them through a forest like none of them have ever seen before, and Dean has almost forgotten that they were supposed to be racing against each other when Cas nudges his shoulder and then points at Dean’s watch. Two minutes until they’ll be pulling into the station. Dean nods, letting Cas know he’s ready to bolt the minute the doors open. He smiles at Cas and starts to lean in for a kiss, but Cas turns his head just enough to whisper in Dean’s ear, “I’ll make out with you for the entire twenty minute ride back down the mountain, but if I kiss you right now we’ll just get distracted and lose track of time.”

Dean laughs and concedes the point as the train pulls into the station and Cas pulls him to his feet.

They run flat out all the way up to the base of the huge statue at the top of the mountain, not even stopping to admire it. They run straight for the only people already standing by the pedestal beneath the gigantic feet of the Lord: an Amazing Honeymoon cameraman and a man who appears to be a priest in a long black robe.

They slow to a walk a few feet from the man and he hands them a yellow race envelope, just before he hands another to Sam, and then a third to Donna. She lets out an excited whoop and turns to open the envelope with Jody as their winded cameraman finally catches up to them.

Cas reads their next clue while Dean just stares up at the statue looming above them.

“ **Drive to Sugarloaf Mountain and take a gondola to the top to receive your next clue. Warning: Detour ahead.** ”

“Shit, if we hurry we can get back on that train before it leaves,” Dean says.

Cas doesn’t bother to answer him, just takes off running. Phil groans under the weight of his camera bag, and without a word Dean grabs it off his shoulder and bolts off after Cas, hoping Phil’s not too startled to remember he’s supposed to be running, too.

It isn’t as close a call as they’d been expecting since there aren’t really any crowds to dodge yet that early in the morning, and all three teams manage to get safely aboard before the train makes its descent back to the Corcovado station.

“I feel ridiculous,” Cas says, after Dean hands Phil’s bag back to him. “We just visited a monument that some people plan for years to see, and we spent four entire minutes there. I didn’t even look up at the statue.”

Dean shrugs, “I didn’t look out at the view of Rio.”

“Hmm. At least we’re technically still in the lead,” Cas says. “I suppose it was worth missing a once in a lifetime experience for.”

“Technically we’re all still in the lead,” Jess says leaning between them from the seat behind. “And this whole race _is_ a once in a lifetime experience. Enjoy it. Especially when it’s ridiculous.”

“Excellent point,” Jody says. “Even if you win, you’d never spend your own money to do this kind of stuff. It’s been wild so far. Except the llamas. You can keep the llamas.”

“Aw, they were ornery, but they were adorable,” Donna insists.

“And they stank,” Jody says more forcefully.

Donna wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, can’t argue with you there.”

“Cusco was nice, too,” Sam chimes in. “After I stopped feeling like I was gonna die.”

Jess punches his shoulder and then sits back in her seat. “Okay, that’s enough. I think the lovebirds wanted to spend the rest of this ride sucking face.”

“What, you heard that?” Dean asks, turning around so fast he almost cracks his nose against the side of Cas’s head.

“You guys aren’t as subtle as you think you are,” she replies with a shrug.

Dean glares at her for a few more seconds until he remembers there’s something he’d rather be doing and decides the rest of this train ride would be much better spent if he got to doing it. He grabs Cas by the hand and moves to the other end of the car, and even the cameramen don’t try to follow them. Not that Dean would care if they did. They’ve become just another part of daily life at this point. Dean’s pretty sure they’ve already got more than enough footage of him and Cas kissing to last them the rest of the race anyway. Another fifteen minutes worth is no big deal.

Dean does pull back after a few minutes, because they are still in a race and much as he’d be curious to see how far Cas would be willing to take this in public, their day is just beginning and there’s probably something highly unpleasant in their near future.

“Do you know where we’re supposed to be going next,” he asks against Cas’s lips, still reluctant to pull away completely.

Cas groans and kisses him one more time before resigning himself to pulling out their guide book and map. He tries to avoid saying anything out loud after what Jess had implied about their lack of subtlety, and ends up jotting down a translation of the crucial details for Dean that the other teams might miss.

_The cable car we need doesn’t start at Sugarloaf, but at Morro da Urca_.

Dean raises an eyebrow and lays the map out across their laps, inviting Cas to show him the route. Their plans are finalized with several minutes to spare before the train delivers them back to where they’d started less than an hour earlier. They look around the station as they make their way back to their car, waiting to make sure there aren’t any other racing drivers about to take them out in the parking lot.

“I don’t see any other teams,” Cas says as Dean again settles into the back seat.

“The rest of them probably made the second train,” Dean replies. “They’re all half an hour behind us, unless they don’t make it back in time for the return train.”

Cas nods, starts the car, and they’re off again. This time, they let Jody and Sam take the lead. If they don’t know the secret about the tricky turnoff at Morro da Urca, Dean and Cas aren’t about to enlighten them by accidentally leading the way there. If they do know, then arriving ten seconds later won’t really hurt them when they have at least a thirty minute lead on their next closest competitors.

Cas laughs to himself at that thought.

“What’s so funny, babe?”

Cas shakes his head, still focusing on the road. “I’ve already started thinking of our friends and family as our _competitors_. Does that make me a terrible person?”

He pulls up to a red light and chances a glance at Dean in the rear view mirror. Dean seems to be seriously considering it, but then he laughs too.

“Now we know,” Dean says. “It takes five days to turn us all Lord of the Flies on each other. I’d guess that’s about average.”

Phil even laughs at that, and can’t resist commenting. “Dude, you have no idea. It usually takes about twelve seconds before most of the teams on past races have decided exactly how they’re gonna take each other down. You and your friends have been downright genteel about this race.”

“Most likely because we _are_ friends,” Cas replies, and then adds, “We’re family.”

Phil just shakes his head. He’s still filming, but it’s almost like he’s forgotten the fact and is just running on autopilot. “Shit, if I were doing this with _my_ family, we’d all have been plotting each other’s downfall before we ever left the starting line. Really, you guys don’t know how good you’ve got it. I mean, you wonder why we haven’t been filming the race recap interviews they edit into the show? Because all of you are just _too nice_ to each other. There’s no gotcha moment for us to capture, no backstabbing, no secret alliances to uncover. That shit’s the only reason we film those segments at all. With you guys, there’s no animosity, no tension. You all talk to each other. We’re getting _way_ more mileage out of capturing you all just having fun together. You really take care of each other.”

Dean gives him a weird look and is about to ask what kind of family _doesn’t_ take care of each other, but Cas pulls the car into a parking spot right between Jody and Sam. They again decide to risk leaving their bags in the car for the second time that day. There’s only one way up and down this mountain too, after all.

Cas and Dean make their way toward the strange building that looks like little more than a band shell with delusions of grandeur, with a dozen or so heavy cables stretching from its cavernous maw up and out of sight toward the top of the mountain looming in the distance. What’s worse is that from his vantage point just outside this travesty of a building, Dean can see a _second_ set of cables connecting to a _second_ mountain right at the edge of the ocean.

“Holy fuck we’re all gonna fucking die goddammit,” he mutters just loud enough for Cas to hear him. He’s pretty sure if his husband were to listen hard enough, Cas could also hear his legs turning to jello.

Cas picks up a brochure while they’re waiting in line to buy their tickets and tries to comfort Dean with cold hard facts.

“They’ve been operating these gondolas for more than a hundred years,” Cas starts off with.

“So they’re old _and_ terrifying. Great. That makes me feel a lot more confident,” Dean snaps.

“They do maintain them, Dean. If they weren’t safe, they wouldn’t let tourists ride them every day.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he’s also doing the panic-breathing technique that he’d been using on airplane rides before he’d been forcibly accustomed to air travel over the last few days, against his own better judgment. Cas shows him the pictures in the pamphlet, using it as an excuse to lean right up against Dean and gently run one hand up and down his spine and tell him more useless facts about the mountain and the cable cars. It’s more the soft and gentle cadence of Cas’s voice than the words themselves that bring Dean back from the edge of panic. Cas never stops murmuring reassurances all through buying their tickets and leading Dean through the building and into the large gondola.

The car is not much more than a large glass-walled bubble, and Dean’s actually grateful that people are already mostly blocking the view in every direction. He feels a momentary pang for Cas, huddled with him on the floor at the center of the car when he’d probably get a kick out of looking out the windows the whole way up the mountain. Probably’d try and imagine he’s a bird, or a bee, flying up to the summit, but Dean just can’t bring himself to move yet.

He sees Sam and Jess and Jody and Donna standing together at the front of the gondola soaking in the view and tries to convince Cas to go join them.

“At least one of us should be having fun,” Dean argues.

“I am having fun, Dean.”

“Yeah, because hiding with your chickenshit husband and holding his hand like a toddler is so much fucking fun.”

And that’s the last straw for Cas. His hand clenches in the back of Dean’s t-shirt and he has to grit his teeth together to keep from yelling at the idiot he married. When he’s calm again, he grabs Dean’s chin so he can’t look away and glares at him.

“I am happy to keep you company in whatever way I can. I’m happy to help you do things you don’t believe you can handle on your own. The only thing about this that has been less than fun for me is listening to you say such horrible things about yourself.”

Dean just blinks and tries to look down, but Cas refuses to let him. Dean stops trying to fight the force of Cas’s fingers beneath his chin and sighs, closing his eyes.

“It’s not horrible if it’s true.”

“It’s absolutely not true, Dean,” Cas practically growls, and Dean opens his eyes in surprise. “You have a fear of flying. It’s not a rational thing you can control. It’s not a statement against your bravery. I would never question that. You charged into a room where three dangerous criminals had been holding me hostage. Not only that, you came for me when one of those men had been someone who’d hurt you deeply in the past. You saved my life, and there’s not many people on this whole planet who could’ve done what you did that day. So no, I will not allow you to say such things about yourself. Ever.”

Cas continues to stare at him while Dean lets that all sink in. Far more than all the distracting touches and the soothing power of Cas’s gentle voice had been to even get him into this death trap, it’s the utter conviction in this declaration that finally loosens the tension in Dean’s shoulders. It doesn’t make him trust the bundle of thin wires that Cas insists are more than sufficient to keep them all from falling out of the sky and splattering all over the mountainside any more than he had a minute ago, but it does remind him that he trusts _Cas_. He has no idea what his face must look like, but whatever it is, it brings a radiant smile to Cas’s face, and that in itself is enough to make him feel better.

“You’re a mechanic, Dean,” Cas goes on. “The logical part of your mind must already understand how this huge machine works. Because tell me something.”

Cas still has a grip on his chin, and uses it to turn Dean’s head a little to the side to he can talk directly into Dean’s ear at little more than a whisper.

“If you truly believed we weren’t completely safe riding in this thing, would you have let me get onboard?”

Dean jerks his head back in shock, and sees Cas grinning victoriously at him. Because damn if he hasn’t hit the nail on the head.

“I won’t force you to look out the window if you really, truly don’t want to, Dean. But if you’re going to spend the ride sitting here, then I will always be happier sitting next to you than standing by the windows without you.”

Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times, unable to come up with words sufficient to convey everything he’s thinking and feeling about his husband in that moment. He falls back to the one language he knows Cas will be able to interpret, and pulls him in for a kiss. After a minute or two, Dean rests his forehead against Cas’s and huffs out a little laugh at the improbability of the entire scenario.

“I am one lucky bastard to have you, Cas.”

Cas shrugs and grins. “I feel lucky to have you, so I think we’re even.”

There’s a sudden movement all around them as everyone prepares to exit the car and Dean looks around again, stunned to discover that they’re at the top of the first mountain. Cas stands up and reaches a hand down to Dean, which he takes gratefully. He stops for one more moment to pull Cas in for another quick kiss, because he doesn’t even fucking care if they let the others get ahead of them. Dean’s just so overwhelmed to have Cas that nothing else really matters. He doesn’t even notice the scenery as they run to make the second cable car to the top of Sugarloaf; he’s too busy admiring Cas running just ahead of him.

For the second leg of their trip by death bubble, he doesn’t stand right up against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows but they’re close enough for Cas to actually see out this time. If Dean spends the entire ride with his arms wrapped around Cas and his face buried against the nape of his neck, no one else seems to think anything of it.

At the summit of Sugarloaf they find a welcoming visitors center pavilion and a stunning view of Rio. Dean almost wishes they had time to really enjoy it after everything he went through to get there, but there’s another clue box and they’re racing Sam, Jess, Donna, and Jody to the red and yellow race flag on instinct now.

“ **DETOUR** : **Descend the Mountain or Stroll the Beach** ,” they read out for the camera. They quickly read over the instructions for both tasks, and just as Cas says _beach_ , Dean blurts out _mountain._

“Are you sure, Dean? You don’t have to do this. You already survived one traumatic experience today, and we’ve got at least a half hour lead on everyone else. We can afford the time it would take to search the beach for this woman.”

Dean points out at the crowded beach in the distance. “You really think we’re gonna find one chick in that mess?”

There’s hundreds of umbrellas blanketing the sands of Ipanema, and finding the woman in the photograph attached to their clue in the crowd of beachgoers seems like a nearly impossible task. Their only other option is to rappel down the side of Sugarloaf Mountain to a boat waiting in the ocean 750 feet below.

“We agreed to the rules, Cas,” Dean says, steeling himself to essentially jump off the side of the mountain. “We pick the task with a simple objective over the one that might take all damn day. Plus I really don’t wanna spend the rest of the day with sand in my boots.”

Cas studies him for a second and then nods. “Okay, then. We’ll do mountain.”

“I’ll meet you back at the beach then,” Phil says, pointing at his camera. “Can’t rappel with the equipment.”

They watch him walk off without another word and then meet up with a cameraman stationed at the detour to film their descent. Sam and Jess are already on their way down the side of the cliff face when they get there. Jody and Donna are being strapped into their safety harnesses and helmets mounted with tiny cameras while being given a quick briefing on proper rappelling technique. Dean listens to the instructor closely, because while he may never have jumped off anything quite this high before, he _has_ been rappelling before. It was just one more part of the training his dad had put both him and Sam through when they were kids; the same training that had enabled him to help save Cas from a couple of monsters who were trying to kill him.

He buckles himself into his own harness while Cas gratefully accepts the assistance of one of the trained attendants, and grins when Cas seems surprised with how proficient he is with the climbing equipment.

Dean just shrugs and replies, “Dad taught me.”

Cas gives him a long surprised and assessing look, but he’s relieved on Dean’s behalf and finds himself relaxing now that he doesn’t have to worry so much about making sure his husband is going to survive this task.

They watch as Jody and Donna are lowered over the side of the mountain, and then Dean risks a glance over the edge. He regrets it instantly, but he is happy to see that Sam still seems to be only about half way down. There’s only four ropes, so he’s got at least a few more minutes to enjoy standing on solid rock before he gets dangled out over the ocean. He spends it manfully clasping his husband’s hand like a lifeline.

Before he knows it, the attendants are calling them over and clipping their harnesses to the lines. Dean rechecks everything for himself and then takes a few deep breaths. He and Cas exchange one last look and a solemn nod before edging out backward into space.

Years of training with his dad kick in and take over, replacing all his fear with the simple motions and the rhythmic movement of bouncing down the cliff face. He hears Cas let out a whoop off to his right and looks over to see him laughing in exhilaration. His husband’s joy brings a smile to his own face.

“You having fun over there, Cas?”

“This is quite thrilling, yes.”

“You turning into an adrenaline junkie?”

Cas thinks about that for a second before answering seriously, “I wouldn’t mind doing this again someday, but overall, I don’t believe so.”

Dean shakes his head and returns his focus to the mountain. “We’ll see about that after the next batshit crazy thing they make us do.”

They touch down on the deck of a small boat, unhook themselves from their lines, and are being whisked back to the beach near where they’d left their car before they can even begin unbuckling their safety harnesses.

“It’s a shame Phil missed out on that,” Cas says to the camera attached to his helmet before handing it over to one of the crew members on the boat. “That was an enjoyable experience.”

“I’ll take this part of it,” Dean says, settling in on one of the chairs bolted to the deck and then pointing back up the mountain, “Over that part any day.”

Cas sits down in his lap. “Okay, then. We’ll have to pencil in a boat ride on our real honeymoon.”

Dean grins. “I thought we agreed this _was_ our real honeymoon?”

Cas shrugs and kisses him.

The boat ride comes to an end before Dean’s ready for it to be over, and the captain hands them their next clue, dropping them off on the beach by the lot where they’d left their car. They’re about to run off when the cameraman aboard the boat shouts, “Hey! Clue!” and they have to run back to the boat to tear it open for the camera.

” **Drive to the bus terminal and then take a bus to Foz d’Iguacu, where you’ll find another marked car. Drive yourselves to Iguacu National Park and search for your next clue. Warning, Roadblock ahead**.”

“All right then,” Dean says, running for the car when they get the thumbs up from the crew aboard the boat. “You know where the bus station is?”

Cas nods absently and settles into the driver’s seat once again. He’s got the car started and in gear before Dean and Phil can even get their doors shut.

“What’s the rush, Cas? We’re doing great on time.”

Cas gives him a grim glance when he turns to back out of the parking spot. “Do you know where Iguacu is, Dean?”

Dean quickly looks down at the map of Rio that Cas has apparently already memorized as Cas takes off in what Dean dearly hopes is the direction of the bus station. He scans straight to the edge of the map in all directions and sees a couple of green spaces that could pass as a National Park, but none of them are labeled Iguacu. Everything else is almost entirely city, but how far could it realistically be? Isn’t most of Brazil like Amazon rainforest or some shit anyway, Dean wonders.

“Outside the city, I’d guess,” Dean replies after coming up empty with the map.

“To put it mildly.”

Cas’s sarcastic tone is making Dean a little nervous.

“It can’t be that far if we’re taking a bus there,” he reasons.

“Dean, Foz d’Iguacu is on the border with Paraguay and Argentina.” He tries to come up with some comparable distance that Dean can wrap his head around when he doesn’t seem to get it right away. “Remember the drive you took all the way out to Colorado the first night I met Charlie?”

“Of course.” Dean shrugs. “Colorado’s not that far, really. Less than 400 miles.”

“Well, stretch that round trip out into a straight line, and that’s probably closer to the distance.”

“Oh, ugh. And we get to spend it on some bus?” He might find it therapeutic to _drive_ that far, but for Dean, being trapped in a bus seat with almost nothing to do for the better part of an entire day is the next best thing to his own personal version of hell. “Why the hell aren’t we flying instead?”

Cas’s sudden outburst of laughter makes Phil jump in his seat, which Dean glares at him for.

“Dean Winchester suggesting we fly instead of drive? I think this is one of the signs of the Apocalypse,” Cas chokes out between laughs.

“Ha ha. Laugh it up, buddy, but you’re gonna be stuck on the bus with me. Road tripping in Baby is not the same as being stuffed in a bus.” And then he remembers something critical that’s sure to get Cas to stop laughing. “Plus Sam’s gonna be trapped on that bus, too. And I know for a fact he’s been eating the local food all morning. So we’re all probably gonna be dead from toxic gas poisoning before we get there.”

Dean settles back in his seat and crosses his arms across his chest, smirking when Cas’s next glance at him in the rear view mirror is tinged with fear instead of humor.

“Maybe they were far enough ahead of us to catch an earlier bus?” Cas suggests, but even he knows how weak it sounds. He sighs. “At least you have an appreciation for what we’re in for now. If it’s any consolation, the falls themselves are considered one of the most beautiful scenic vistas in the world.”

Dean snorts. He feels just a little bad that he’d soured Cas’s good mood so quickly, and over such a petty thing as a boring bus trip. He’s got one chance to accept the olive branch Cas is trying to hand him.

“If it’s that great, then why’d they have to put it so far out in the middle of nowhere?”

And just like that Cas is sputtering out a laugh again.

They catch up to Sam, Jess, Jody and Donna at the bus terminal, and resign themselves to seventeen grueling and utterly mind-numbing, butt-numbing hours aboard a bus. Cas had initially been excited by the prospect of driving through the tropical rainforest, but what they mostly have to look at hour after hour is more like a tropical version of rural Kansas than the nature documentaries of the Brazilian rainforest Cas likes to watch. Dean is almost grateful when the sun sets and it becomes easier to distract Cas from the drab and depressing agricultural landscape that man had carved from the rainforest.

They pull into the station at Foz d’Iguacu just after six on Friday morning, and despite having stopped at rest areas a few times along the way, it suddenly hits Dean that he hasn’t had a shower in the last two days. Nor has he slept in an actual bed. He gives himself a little sniff and shudders.

“We better fucking well get a pit stop before we have to get back on that godforsaken thing again,” Dean says, hooking a thumb back over his shoulder at the bus as he and Cas locate their next ride in the terminal’s parking lot.

Cas nods grimly and climbs into the back seat. “I assume you would prefer to drive after that.” He waves a hand vaguely in the direction of the buses. “It’s incredible how exhausting sitting still for that long really is.”

Before he starts the car, Dean turns around and grins at his husband. “I love you, you weirdo.”

Cas swats at him to prod him to get moving, but eventually groans and smiles. “I love you too, Dean.” Dean turns around, content, and settles in for the comparatively short drive to the park.

Now that the sun is rising, they’re finally getting a view of the lush Brazilian forest that Cas expected and hoped to see. Cas perks up in the back seat and watches in wonder as they enter the park and find a clue box off to the side of a tourist parking lot. They park, lock their bags in the car, and make a run for the box just as Sam and Jess reach it. Jody and Donna are already running from the box toward a shuttle bus about to depart for the falls.

Dean reaches into the box and pulls out a yellow envelope, then makes sure Cas is by his side before tearing it open. Inside is the expected second envelope.

**“ROADBLOCK: Who has keen eyes and a good sense of direction?”**

Dean and Cas look at each other for a second, because only one of them can do this task and they must decide who before they tear the envelope open.

Eventually Dean shrugs. “I figure it’s your turn. Plus you wanted to see the falls, and I’m guessing they didn’t haul our sorry asses across the entire width of Brazil unless the roadblock had something to do with the falls.”

Cas grins at his husband, hugs him tight, and plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He grabs the blue Roadblock envelope from Dean’s hand and eagerly rips it open.

**“Take the shuttle bus to the falls and then locate the marked dock. The chosen team member must board a marked boat and then search the basin below the falls for your next clue.”**

“At least it sounds like you’ll get to see the falls, too,” Cas says, as they make their way to the shuttle bus stop.

“And to think some people are content to spend their honeymoon at Niagara Falls.”

At the bus stop, Dean grabs Cas around the waist and pulls him in for a kiss. Hey, they’ve got time to kill.

“Get a room, guys,” Sam says.

“Hopefully that’s next on the agenda,” Cas replies, without looking away from Dean. “I’ve been wearing these underpants for more than two days. I’d trade a lesser-favored organ for a hot shower and clean clothes right about now.”

“Stop that. You need all your organs,” Dean tells him. “I’d rather have you dirty and whole, thanks.”

“Plus I think there’s a good chance we’re gonna get a free shower by waterfall,” Jess says.

“You’re doing the roadblock?” Dean asks her.

Jess shrugs. “It’s my turn.”

“You hear that, Cas? They got the same system we do,” Dean says, releasing Cas just enough so he can turn and face Sam and Jess, presenting a united front. “Did you two steal our playbook?”

“It just seems logical,” Sam replies. “We each have to do half of them, and unless it seems obvious from the clue that one of us would be significantly better at a challenge than the other, then we’ll just take turns.”

“So all that money I’m paying to send you to college hasn’t been a waste,” Dean says.

“You’ll be stuck on a dock with your brother for the foreseeable future, Dean. Maybe you shouldn’t antagonize him.”

“Aw, Cas. What’s the point of having a little brother if I can’t antagonize him?”

The bus shows up and they all climb aboard. Cas and Jess choose to sit together to discuss strategy for finding the clue. They know that only Jody and Donna are out ahead of them, and every other team is at least an hour behind on the next bus that left Rio. They agree it doesn’t really matter which of them winds up in second and which in third, so pooling their resources and working together seems like a reasonable option that may get them all to the pit stop-- and a chance to just sit still for the first time in days-- that much sooner.

“Hey, guys,” Donna calls out, waving at them from the small dock. “Isn’t this gorgeous?”

Cas hurries past her with a grin and jumps in the first available boat, followed by Phil the cameraman. Cas turns and waves at Dean, now standing with Sam and Donna admiring the falls off in the distance, and then directs the small boat’s captain to head up river toward the falls.

The river is dotted with boulders and larger rock formations, the largest of which could reasonably be deemed islands, and Cas strains his eyes to pick out either the red and yellow race flag or a yellow clue envelope among all the green vegetation and grey stone. He also keeps an intermittent eye on Jess, working her way up the opposite side of the river, and they occasionally lock eyes and shrug.

They see Jody at one point, making her way around the edge of the falls, until she disappears around a bend in the rock face. Cas spots her again a few minutes later heading back out, no longer carefully scanning the landscape but racing straight back toward the dock. He and Jess share a look and both direct their captains into the channel where Jody just emerged from.

Finally, as they both converge on a larger rock formation near the center of the falls, Cas spots a bundle of yellow envelopes dangling far above the water’s surface, fastened to the side of the rock outcropping between two sections of the falls. He turns and calls out to Jess, but it’s hard to hear anything over the roar of the water. She eventually notices him waving and directs the captain of her boat to steer in his direction.

Cas instructs his captain to get as close as possible, then finds a few strategic handholds on the slippery rock face and begins his ascent. He’s close enough to the falls that he’s decided he’s changed his mind on demanding that shower now, because the mist is so heavy that his clothes are soaked through with the surprisingly chilly river water. It’s difficult, but he finally reaches the bundle of plastic-wrapped clues and pulls one out of the bunch before clambering back down the cliff and into the boat. His boat’s wedged between the cliff and Jess’s boat, and since he’s technically stuck until she reaches her clue anyway, he decides to be helpful.

“You can do it, Jess,” he calls out, reaching up to support her foot when it slips on the mist-coated rock.

“Thanks, Cas!” she yells back when she leaps back to the deck of her boat with her clue in hand, and then tells her captain to take them back to the dock.

“Follow that boat!” Cas yells at his own captain, before turning to grin at Phil and his camera. “I always wanted to say that.”

Phil just shakes his head and laughs.

Jody and Donna are long gone by the time they get back, but Sam and Dean are waiting impatiently right where they left them. Jess docks first and races over to Sam, but Dean runs toward Cas to help pull him up onto the dock. They tear open the next clue and are profoundly relieved.

**“Make your way on foot to the next pit stop: The Hotel das Cataratas. Warning, the last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

“Oh, thank god,” Dean says, and they head off at a brisk walking pace, following the signs along the nearest pathway to the hotel.

“Sam and Jess can run if they want to, but fuck it, we’re walking,” Dean says, noticing for the first time that Cas is shivering. He wraps an arm around Cas’s shoulders and rubs his arm vigorously, holding him close enough to hopefully warm him up a little. “Did you fall in or something?”

“No, but jeans and flannel are decidedly not the most comfortable attire when wet,” Cas says. “I should’ve expected to get soaked in the spray from the falls and worn something more appropriate.”

“We’ll get you warm and dry as soon as we find that pit stop, okay?”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas replies.

They still don’t run, but Dean picks up the pace.

They turn a bend in the path and without warning the forest opens up onto a beautifully manicured lawn surrounding a strangely pink but stately hotel. There on the mat is Bela, accompanied by a woman in a bright red skirt and a ruffly white blouse who welcomes them with, “Olá, bem vindo a Foz d'Iguacu.”

Cas replies, “Obrigado, é lindo. Estamos muito felizes de estar aqui.”

Dean nudges him, wondering what everyone’s saying, so Cas mutters, “She said hello and welcomed us, so I thanked her and told her it’s beautiful, and we’re happy to be here.”

Bela smiles broadly at that. “I’ll bet you are happy to be here, especially since you’re team number three! Congratulations, Dean and Cas. How does it feel to finally get a break?”

“Yeah, that was some leg,” Dean says, relieved it’s finally over.

“You look a little cold, Cas,” Bela says. “I take it you had some difficulty reaching that last clue?”

“Not at all,” Cas replies. “Water is wet, though, and there is a notoriously large quantity of it around waterfalls.”

Dean nearly chokes in his effort not to laugh, not just at Cas’s comment, but at Bela’s attempt to control her own face. To think she once thought Cas would be the polite and easy to handle one. Phil finally stops recording and Bela dismisses him for the day.

“Well, enjoy your stay at the hotel,” Bela tells them, handing them a packet with their hotel room key and a list of instructions. “This is a special pit stop, and you’ll have access to the rest of your gear and the laundry facilities at the hotel should you need them. Because of the remote nature of the location, you’ll have a full twenty four hours instead of the usual twelve before reporting back to the mat to start the next leg. Rest up and enjoy your stay. I think you’ll find it’s a rather romantic place to be stranded for an entire day.”

She winks at them and then waves them off toward the hotel.

“We’re getting you warm and dry, sending everything in our backpacks to the laundry, and then we’re checking this place out,” Dean says. “This is awesome.”

The water pressure in their luxurious hotel room’s shower is up to Dean’s high standards, and he takes his sweet time making sure Cas is thoroughly warmed up inside and out. Another benefit of being reunited with their gear is easy access to their main stash of lube. Blowjobs are great and everything, but Dean’s been pleasantly surprised by just how much privacy they’ve had along the way so far, after preparing himself for an entire month of nothing but bathroom quickies and rushed handjobs. Not that there haven’t been a few of those, too.

Thinking back over the first week of the race while digging through his large duffel for the bottle of lube, Dean realizes that the sheer amount and variety of sex he and Cas have managed to have has gone a long way toward him feeling like they really were on their honeymoon. He explains his reasoning to Cas in a low and dirty tone while he works him open in the shower. Cas expresses his agreement repeatedly and passionately while Dean pins him to the wall under the warm spray, Cas’s legs clenched around his waist. He kisses the words from Cas’s lips and lets them fill him up until he can’t hold any more and spills over deep inside his husband, bringing Cas along with him.

After their shower and then a quick trip back to their car to fetch their bags, and then another trip to their room to order lunch off the room service menu, they spend an hour repacking their bags with the items on the updated necessities list in their information packet.

“Lightweight clothing,” Cas reads off the list. “I suppose we’re headed somewhere hot again next?”

“It also says to bring a light jacket. Guess a heavy flannel should do it.”

Cas rolls his eyes and grabs Dean’s hand. “You’d wear a flannel no matter the temperature. Come on. I hear they have a bird sanctuary.”

“What, no bees?” Dean teases.

“There must be bees somewhere,” Cas replies, dragging Dean to the door.

Dean stops him and pulls him in for a kiss. “I already got the best bee right here.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean’s nascent airplane coping skills are put to the test, and it becomes impossible to avoid dealing with livestock, to everyone’s consternation (especially the livestock).

The entire group eats dinner together after everyone settles in and has a chance to recover from three grueling days of travel. A few of the cameramen hang around the edges of the group trying to be unobtrusive while still capturing some of their conversation on video. At one point Phil leans over and mentions to Dean how awesome it is that, despite being in direct competition with each other, everyone’s still cheering each other on and nobody’s sworn out a blood feud yet.

Dean just gives him a funny look and reiterates, “Dude, they’re family,” like that should explain everything, and then spends the rest of dinner side-eyeing Phil and once again wondering if his oddball little chosen family is a rarer gift than he ever imagined it was.

Jody and Donna try and describe their prize for winning the leg; some kind of fitness package that includes a bunch of gym equipment and in-home lessons with a personal chef. They seem pretty happy about it all, and Dean’s happy for them. He squeezes Cas’s knee under the table and they share a grin. They’ve already got ten grand in the bank from their win, Sam and Jess have an amazing trip in their future, and now Jody and Donna have something to take home, too. If Dean had his way, he’d have made sure everyone got to experience that feeling of elation of winning a leg, but at least two teams of his friends will never get that chance.

Krissy and Lee finished last on this leg. They got lost driving through Rio and the entire rest of the leg they were desperately trying to play catch-up. Krissy doesn’t seem too upset about it. She says she’s excited about getting to spend some more time with Ash and is eager to talk with him about his computer work. Lee is less excited, but he thanks Dean again for even inviting them on this adventure in the first place.

“Hey, man, you guys deserve to have some fun, too. Without the two of you, the shop wouldn’t run half as well as it does.”

Lee blusters out a thank you and quietly distracts himself with his dinner.

Dean’s satisfied that Lee now feels equally weird about the entire exchange, and they’re able to happily spend the rest of the evening catching up on everyone’s best and worst moments over the last few days before turning in to rest up for their next adventure.

After a good night’s sleep, Dean and Cas spend the next morning lazily enjoying the luxury hotel’s comfortable bed, followed by another long, hot shower. Anything’s better than thinking about the return seventeen hour bus ride in their immediate future, so needless to say they’re absolutely thrilled when they get to the mat at 10:24 am to receive their next clue from their new cameraman, who shakes each of their hands in turn and introduces himself as Ed.

**“Drive yourselves to Foz d’Iguacu airport and fly to Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso.”**

“Holy shit, they have an airport here?” Dean yells, running after Cas toward their car. “Why the fuck did they make us take the damn bus before?”

“To help you better appreciate the joy of air travel?” Cas suggests. “I don’t know, Dean. The race works in…”

“Don’t you dare say _mysterious ways_.”

Cas grins at him, and shrugs. “It worked, though. Even the idea of what will likely amount to more than a day’s worth of air travel seems more pleasant to you right now than getting back on that bus.”

Dean freezes with the car door halfway open and stares at Cas clambering into the back seat. “Where are we going again?”

“Ouagadougou.”

Dean’s not sure if that’s actually a thing, or if Cas is just messing with him. “Wagawhatnow?”

“It’s the capital of Burkina Faso,” Cas replies, staring up at Dean from inside the car. “It’s in Africa. Just get in the car, Dean.”

“Okay, then.”

The airport turns out to be just a few miles from their hotel, and they quickly spot Sam and Jess, and then Jody and Donna inside the small terminal. Cas eventually wrangles them onto a convoluted series of flights that he assures Dean is the absolute fastest way to get them to the other side of the Atlantic.

“Thirty hours, though!”

“Including three layovers, Dean. It’s really more like sixteen and a half hours in the air. Still less time than we spent on the bus.”

“And there’s not a more direct way to get there?”

Cas just looks at Dean like he’s done something adorable while their tickets are printing, and then pets his cheek. “We’re traveling from one middle of nowhere to another middle of nowhere on an entirely different continent. You can’t get there from here, as they say.”

“Well, you _can_ , it’s just really fucking inconvenient.”

“We’re lucky we arrived when we did,” Cas replies. The flight to Lisbon is nearly full, so everyone after us may end up on other less desirable flights.”

“Longer flights?” Dean asks, sliding up next to Cas. He might wish everyone could experience the thrill of winning a leg while they’re all relaxing together at a pit stop, but when they’re all supposed to be racing each other? Yeah, he’s not gonna deny he’ll take any advantage he and Cas can get to keep themselves in first place. What, it’s a matter of principle.

Nearly all the other teams make it to the airport before the first flight leaves for Rio, with the remaining teams hanging on for a few more minutes to catch a flight to Sao Paulo. After additional stops in Lisbon (where they manage to ditch Ed for a few hours after accidentally and regrettably getting him going on the subject of haunted houses) and Casablanca (where Dean spends the majority of their time quoting lines from the movie), the most harrowing flight of Dean’s life finally ends when their small propeller plane touches down in Ouagadougou at 11:30 Sunday night. They’re the first to claim their next clue at a taxi stand outside the airport.

_“_ **Take a taxi to the Gare Central. From there take a train to the village of Bingo in Boulkiemdé, and then search for your next clue. Warning: Roadblock ahead.** _”_

“Roadblock first, this time?” Dean says absently while scanning the terminal for any other teams.

They were the only team on their last two flights, and Cas has been feeling rather smug about it. Dean’s not yet ready to relax because he’s not entirely sure trains to remote unpronounceable places even run at 11:30 on Sunday night. After a five minute taxi ride, his suspicion is confirmed and he and Cas settle in for the night camped out on the ground in front of the ticket window at the train station. At least they’re used to sleeping on airport floors by now. A train station floor is practically more of the same.

Cain and Colette turn up an hour later and Cas is delighted to get a chance to talk with his old professor. Dean and Colette are equally delighted to poke fun of Cas and Cain both going on about their bees. Cas and Cain get their revenge eventually when Dean and Colette’s conversation turns to cooking and they enthusiastically exchange some of their favorite respective honey-related recipes.

Gabriel and Kali turn up a little while later, followed in rapid succession by most of the rest of the teams. The only pair that hasn’t arrived by the time the ticket window opens at 5:30 Monday morning are Ellen and Jo, so of course Dean spends the entire two hour train ride out into the desert worried about them.

There’s no more time for worry when they pull into the station, which is little more than a small platform and what Dean would generously term a glorified woodshed serving as the train depot. At least it’s not hard to spot the next clue box. Cas grabs an envelope out of the box and tears it open.

**“ROADBLOCK: Who’s ready to work up a thirst?”**

Cas gives Dean a baleful look. They’d both been wary about getting stuck with one of the weird food or drink-related challenges, but Dean knows it’s technically his turn. He sighs and grabs the envelope from Cas.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean can’t stand to see that pitiful look on his husband’s face, so he kisses it away and then resigns himself to his fate, tearing open the blue envelope.

**“Follow the marked path to a local Tuareg village, where one team member will collect enough milk to fill their bowl to the marked line. When the local judge deems the bowl full, you must drink all the milk in order to receive your next clue. If you’re unable to obtain a sufficient amount of milk from your original animal, you must wait for another team to finish before attempting to collect more milk from their animal.”**

“Wait,” Dean says, hurrying to catch up with Cas. “What do they mean by _animal_? What the hell am I gonna have to milk, anyway? And then _drink_?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing poisonous,” Cas says, jogging past his brother who looks just about as grim and queasy as Dean’s starting to feel.

The day is heating up quickly and Dean’s already starting to feel uncomfortable, hiking for what seems like forever through the scrubby desert. It’s such a shocking change from the cool and mountainous rainforest they’d spent the better part of the last week enjoying. They pass Charlie and Gilda taking a rest break to rehydrate in the meager shade of a scrawny tree.

“You guys know we’re gonna have to drink at the roadblock, right?” Dean asks when he jogs past them.

“Well, we’re not gonna make it to the roadblock if I wilt to death first,” Charlie shouts at Dean’s retreating back.

“Don’t forget the sunblock,” Dean shouts back at her, and keeps running, wishing he’d actually remembered to put on some sunblock himself.

“You’ve got this, Dean,” Cas says, pushing Dean toward a clearing where several dozen camels are tied to stakes planted at intervals along a rickety fence line.

“I did not pack enough Purell for this shit,” Dean mutters.

Jess, Colette, Kali, and Rufus are already hard at work milking their camels so Dean stops for just a second to look over the remaining animals. With no real idea what qualities he should be looking for to determine a camel’s milkability, he gives up and settles on the one that looks least likely to try and kill him. He pulls up a little milkmaid’s stool and a hollowed out gourd, and then cautiously settles down next to the huge beast, petting its woolly hump in an attempt to convey his apologies in advance. The line marked around the inside of the gourd bowl seems dishearteningly optimistic, both as a quantity of camel milk to obtain from a single camel as well as a quantity of camel milk he’s expected to drink without being sick.

“This is probably gonna hurt me more than it hurts you,” he mutters at the camel, who replies with a dissatisfied grunt.

After another moment to psych himself up, he reaches out and gives one teat a tentative squeeze. The camel responds by shifting its weight, actually making it easier for Dean to reach, and he thanks the camel by giving another squeeze. Once Dean’s confident the beast isn’t likely to suddenly turn on him and try to maul him, he settles into a rhythm and is actually impressed with how quickly it goes. The bowl is a little more than half full when the first teat runs dry and he switches to the second.

“Just like milking a goat,” Colette says with a laugh, delivering her full bowl to the judge. “Only bigger.”

“And grumpier,” Jess says, just before her squirmy and discontented camel knocks her bowl from her hands. “Shit!”

“I thought it was Sam’s turn at the roadblock,” Dean calls over to her. “Why’d you let him off the hook?”

“Sam pussied out on eating or drinking anything weird,” Jess replies. “But he’s taking anything to do with heights, so I can’t really complain.”

Kali finishes milking her animal next. Just a minute or two later, Dean thinks he’s filled his bowl enough to win over the judges while she’s still trying to drink down several cups worth of warm camel milk. He presents his bowl to a judge, who nods his approval. Dean takes one look at Kali gulping as fast as she can but still not showing any signs of potential poisoning, then searches around until he locks eyes with Cas. Cas is standing with the rest of the waiting team members, grinning madly at him and giving him a too-hearty thumbs up. Dean nods back, holds the bowl up in a sarcastic little toast, and then takes a tentative sip.

“It would taste better cold,” Kali says, trading in her empty bowl for her next clue, “But it’s not bad.”

Dean shrugs in agreement and then chugs it down as fast as he can. It’s warm and thick and a little bit sweet; but Cas was right, it’s not gonna kill him. He hopes.

He hands over the empty bowl as the smiling judge hands him his next clue. He considers running over to hand it to Cas, but he’s feeling a little sloshy inside at the moment. Dean won’t be running anywhere for a while. The second he makes it to Cas’s side, Cas eagerly pounces on him for a deep, lingering kiss. Dean’s taken a bit by surprise but he’s not gonna complain, at least not until Cas pulls back smacking his lips and making an assessing face.

“Strange, but not horrible,” he says. “At least it doesn’t taste like camels smell.”

Dean just blinks at him for a second, the weirdo, but gives Cas that. He lets himself laugh for a second and then tears open the clue envelope.

**“Lasso four camels at the farm’s corral. Lead them along the marked path through the bush to the next route marker in order to receive your next clue.”**

At the other side of the paddock are a bunch of camels running loose around a large pen, and Dean and Cas watch as Gabriel and Kali unsuccessfully try to lasso one. Cain and Colette are just setting off along the path with their four camels in tow. Colette turns back to give Dean an encouraging wink. Dean has no idea how their sudden friendship happened. Maybe bonding over honey recipes carries over into Colette’s unfounded confidence in his apparent camel whispering skills? Whatever, Dean grabs up a length of rope and makes quick work of harnessing all four camels.

“That was impressive, Dean,” Cas tells him, setting off just a minute or two after Gabe and Kali.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, I might’ve wanted to be a cowboy for about five minutes when I was a kid. I used to practice roping the neighbor’s dog.”

“Wow. What did the neighbors think of that?”

“They thought it was hilarious. I was a six year old kid in a plastic cowboy hat and galoshes hog-tying their lazy old golden retriever.”

The walk to their next race flag only takes about twenty minutes, even accounting for several unscheduled stops due to belligerent camel disobedience, and they happily trade in their camels for their next clue.

 **“DETOUR: Teach It or Learn It.** ”

They look over the details of each of their two options, and Dean’s grinning like a maniac when he turns to Cas.

“Learn it, right? You got this one in the bag.”

“It might be an interesting challenge to teach a room full of schoolchildren ten words of English, but I agree. I would never turn down an opportunity to learn ten words in More.”

“You know anything about that language?” Dean asks, setting off toward their assigned classroom in the small school building nearby.

Cas shakes his head. “Nothing more than the fact it is a language spoken in this region.”

“Rattling off ten words can’t be as difficult as defending your dissertation, and you did great with that.”

Cas reaches over and takes Dean’s hand, gives it a squeeze, and they head into their assigned classroom where they’re greeted by a dozen grinning schoolchildren shouting out, “Ne y windiga!”

The lesson begins in earnest and Cas has all ten words memorized in about a minute. It takes a little bit longer to convey their thanks to the kids, but Dean and Cas both consider it time well spent. They have to locate the teacher in an outdoor courtyard and pass her quiz, and then she’s handing them the next clue.

**“Proceed on foot along the marked trail to the next pit stop. Warning, the last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

“Pit stop?” Dean asks, taking off with Cas. “Already? It’s only been like three hours since we got here.”

“Are you forgetting the day and a half it took us to get here from Brazil?” Cas replies, searching the surrounding bush for their next route marker. “Or maybe they’re just trying to make up for how long the last leg was.”

They eventually find the correct trail-- the tiny route marker flag painted on a stone nestled among some scrubby grass isn’t actually easy to spot-- and follow it to what looks to Dean like the Mossi tribe’s equivalent of a town square, surrounded by thatched buildings and bustling with people. In the middle of the square stands Bela, beside a woman decked out in a brightly patterned dress.

“Ne y windiga!” She says, and Cas replies in kind. Even Dean recognizes the phrase from the kids who gave them their More lessons and manages a passable version of the greeting.

“Welcome to Bingo, Burkina Faso!,” Bela says. “Cas, Dean. You are team number one! Congratulations! Ah,” she cuts herself off and looks over Dean’s shoulder.

The Mossi woman issues her greeting a second time, and then Bela is shoving Dean and Cas off to the side to make room for another team.

“Cain and Colette, please join us on the mat. You are team number two! How does it feel to have moved up to the top of the pack so quickly?”

“That’s all on Colette,” Cain says, smiling at his wife. “She saved us today.”

“I grew up on a farm,” she says, blushing. “Milking camels isn’t much different from milking cows.”

Bela smiles politely at them all and then turns back to Dean and Cas.

“Well, as the winners of this leg of the race, you’ve won a trip for two to St. Maarten! That sounds like it would make a lovely proper honeymoon for the two of you.”

“We’re enjoying this honeymoon just fine, thanks,” Cas tells her.

“Yeah, we are,” Dean agrees.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” Bela says. “It’s an easy attitude when you’re on top. I hope you continue to feel that way.”

She dismisses them all, and then Ed pulls them off to the side and hands them their information packet with the details of where they’re spending the next twelve hours. The cameraman informs them that he’d show them to their lodgings, but he wants to interview a couple of the locals about a ghost story one of the farmers had told him. After a weird little overly-formal speech-- some bullshit about gay love saving the day-- Ed wanders off. Dean and Cas are more than happy to let him go.

“Well,” Dean says to Cas as they’re walking off in search of their lodgings. “We’re staying in a hut. In a hut with no showers and a dirt floor. In this heat. In a hut.”

“Stop saying hut.”

The whole village comes out for a dinner feast a couple of hours later, and Dean and Cas finally hear all the gory details of the entire leg from the rest of the teams. Sam and Jess had to spend their Express Pass in order to salvage the camel milk fiasco, and they dutifully hand it over to Dean and Cas.

“Use it wisely,” Sam says. “It saved our asses today.”

“I just hope there’s no more animal-related tasks on the rest of this race,” Jess says. “I’m done with animals.”

Sam looks like his heart is breaking a little bit, but he grudgingly agrees. “First llamas, now camels.”

“You didn’t have to do the llama thing,” Dean reminds him.

Sam lobs a biscuit at his head.

“At least y’all are still racing,” Ellen reminds them.

“Yeah, well, you and Jo get to spend a few weeks slumming it around Paris now,” Dean replies. “Doesn’t sound too shabby, compared to sleeping in a hut.”

Cas glares at him.

Jo takes a turn lobbing a biscuit at Dean’s head. “We still gotta sleep in the hut tonight.”

Dean gives both Ellen and Jo a hug before heading off with Cas to spend a rough night on a straw mat in their own little hut. There’s not actually any running water at all out in the remote village, but there is a large basin of water for their use, and the thatched walls do give them a little privacy. They each take a drink from the bowl and then soak one of their washcloths to wash of the sweat and dust they’ve accumulated after a day in the desert.

“I still smell like camel,” Dean complains, stripping out of his shirt and tossing it down on the straw mat that serves as both floor and bed.

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you smell like camel, Dean.” Cas peels off his dirty shirt and folds it neatly.

“Everything smells like camel here,” Dean replies.

Their boots, socks, and jeans join their shirts on the floor, and Dean wrings out his washcloth before turning Cas around to wash his back.

“I miss the shower at Iguacu,” Dean says, and then plants a little kiss at the top of Cas’s spine. “That was a good shower.”

“We knew we’d likely be spending more time in accommodations such as this than in five star resorts when we signed up for this race,” Cas reminds him, leaning his head back to rest on Dean’s damp shoulder when Dean pulls him in close to run the washcloth over Cas’s already clean stomach and chest.

“Yeah, well, they kinda spoiled me.”

“You were already spoiled for a good shower,” Cas says, turning around in Dean’s arms. “You don’t regret coming now, do you?”

“What, and miss all this?” Dean lowers one hand to give Cas’s butt a squeeze. “As long as you’re with me, I can’t really complain.”

“Yet you still complain. Frequently.”

“It’s all part of my charm.”

“Strangely enough, it is.” Cas leans in and kisses him. They’re both still only half bathed and they need to repack their bags and set out clean clothes for morning, which for them is coming in only a few short hours. Checkout time, and their return to the race, is inconveniently set for 2:14 am. It’s not like Dean’s been complaining about _nothing_.

They reluctantly pull away and hurry to finish packing up their dirty clothes. Cas sets an alarm for two am and they double check all their gear to make sure they’ll be ready to go as soon as that alarm goes off. With everything finally taken care of, they strip out of their underwear and finish up their bathing in a more leisurely fashion, exchanging touches and kisses long after they’re both clean.

“So what’s been your favorite thing so far?” Dean asks when they settle down on their makeshift bed.

Cas has to stop and think for a minute. “It’s hard to say. We’ve done so much in just over a week.”

Dean suddenly sits up and looks down at Cas. “Wait, what day is it?”

“Monday night. Why?”  
Dean slumps back down and pulls Cas into a hug. “We didn’t miss it. Tomorrow’s pie day. We gotta have pie tomorrow. Can’t break tradition just because we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Cas grins into Dean’s hair remembering the very first week they met, when they negotiated that the second Tuesday of every month would thenceforth be honored with pie. They typically bake it themselves, but they made an exception for while they’re on the race and agreed they’d settle for whatever kind of pie they could get their hands on wherever they happened to be in the world.

“You never know, Dean. Maybe our first task tomorrow will involve baking pies. Stranger things have happened.”

“Hmmm,” Dean replies, too busy nuzzling into his husband’s neck to argue. “You never did tell me your favorite thing, Bumblebee.”

“So far, if you forced me to pick, I’d say standing atop Huayna Picchu with you. I wish we could’ve taken more time there.”

“We can go back again someday if you really want to,” Dean says, leaning back far enough to look Cas in the eye. “Or we could go back to Iguacu, now that we know they have an airport.”

“And awesome showers?” Cas teases.

“Yeah, that too.”

Dean nips at Cas’s lip, remembering both of their awesome showers in Brazil. It’s giving him ideas, and he slowly grinds his hips against Cas’s only to discover that Cas has been having similar ideas. The heat is still oppressive even after sunset, and he doesn’t want to make too much noise considering their hut only has a heavy curtain serving as a door, so Dean keeps things slow and easy for now. He kisses the small sounds out of Cas’s mouth before anyone else can hear them.

Cas sits up after a few minutes and flashes a mischievous grin down at Dean, which looks almost sinister in the flickering light from the single lantern by their bedside. Without another word, he flips around and swallows Dean down in a single movement. Dean has to bite down on his fist to keep from crying out when Cas’s lips close around him. He recovers quickly, and sets to work returning the favor while Cas takes care of him.

Dean realizes that they were both much closer to the edge than he’d thought when Cas grabs at his hip and picks up his pace, groaning around him and sending a shiver up Dean’s spine. Moments later Dean feels Cas tense and then they’re both coming. Cas stays where he is for a few minutes, running his hand lazily over Dean’s hip.

“You never said what your favorite thing has been this week,” Cas says eventually.

Dean laughs. He shifts over and props himself up on one elbow so he can look down at Cas. “Well, we’ve exchanged blow jobs on three continents in a week. That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

“Four,” Cas replies.

“What?”

“Four continents,” Cas says again, shifting around and crawling up to curl into Dean’s side. “You can’t forget about our layover in Lisbon.”

“How could I forget that?” Dean asks, remembering the time they spent in an unoccupied employee lounge when they’d finally managed to dodge their cameraman for a few hours.

“I’m unsure how to categorize that one trip to the airplane lavatory en route to Lisbon. We were technically over international waters.”

“It’s called the Mile High Club,” Dean explains.

“I see,” Cas replies, turning around and getting comfortable at Dean’s side.

“Yeah, it’s been a pretty good trip so far.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean and Cas celebrate Pie Tuesday, among other important traditions.

Dean’s actually happy when their alarm goes off because it means he can finally get up off the ground. Even if it means he’s probably going to spend the rest of the night wandering through the African bush in the dark. Dean is, for once, grateful for the dorky little head lamps that Cas had made him pack.

He and Cas groggily wander out to meet up with their new cameraman, who rather snippily tells them to call him Harry and then hands them their next clue. They exchange a halfhearted wave with Cain and Colette, who look just as tired and bedraggled as they feel, and then tear open the envelope.

**“Take the train back to Ouagadougou and fly to London, England.”**

“Yes!” Dean says. “Civilization, here we come!”

“As soon as the first train gets here,” Cas replies.

The first train doesn’t arrive for nearly four more hours, by which point all the teams are together again. The race for a taxi from the train station to the airport leaves Dean and Cas in second place behind Sam and Jess, but they make up for it once they arrive at the terminal.

Dean finds a very helpful travel agent who is more than eager to help them plot the fastest route to London. She confesses she’s very nearly breaking the airline’s rules regarding check in times, but tells them it’s up to them whether or not they can make it through security and to the departure gate before the plane leaves in less than forty minutes. Cas and Dean exchange a nervous glance and then cast a wary eye at the steadily lengthening line of people waiting to pass through the security checkpoint, but agree to take the risk. If they miss the plane, they could easily end up in last place and have to come all the way back to buy tickets for a later flight. She hands them their tickets and wishes them luck, and they thank her and then bolt off through the airport, determined to make it to the gate in time.

None of the other teams took the risk to try and make their flight, which means Dean and Cas have a blissfully quiet two hour layover in Brussels. Dean is absolutely thrilled to find an actual tiny supermarket inside the terminal, where they have a small but delicious looking selection of pies for sale. Dean takes his time debating the relative merits of each potential Pie Tuesday candidate with Cas, and they eventually settle on an apple tart. He and Cas eat the entire thing before boarding the plane for their short flight to London.

“At least we upheld the Pie Tuesday tradition,” Dean says, tossing the empty container into the trash as he hands his boarding pass to the gate agent.

“Tradition is important, Dean,” Cas agrees solemnly.

They happen to be sitting next to a London resident on the flight. She’s quite the conversationalist and after going on about her own trip she asks where they’re headed, so they show her the rest of their clue.

**“Travel to King’s Cross station and take a train to Cambridge. Once there, make your way to Scudamore’s Punting Company to receive your next clue. Warning: Detour ahead.”**

After they explain what a Detour is, and why they’re racing their way through London, she tells them it’s probably fastest to take the Tube to King’s Cross, and wishes them luck with the rest of their trip.

They land in London just after 5:00 pm and make it through customs in record time. The tube takes them to King’s Cross as promised, and their train pulls into Cambridge just before 8:00 pm. A short taxi ride later finds them at a boat rental company where they find not their next clue, but a pinboard with the numbers 1 through 8 tacked on to it and a notice that the company opens for business again at 9:00 am.

“Shit,” Dean says, while Cas tears off the number 1. “All that to get here first, and we still have to wait twelve stinking hours. Everyone else will be here by then.”

“We’re still first, Dean. And we’re in Cambridge. Why don’t we find a pub and continue celebrating Pie Tuesday in English fashion?”

They splurge with the money they’d saved taking the tube across London instead of a taxi and spend a few hours enjoying a shepherd’s pie and a pint of ale before heading back to Scudamore’s to spend yet another uncomfortable night on the ground.

By dawn they’re surrounded by their travel-weary companions, with Bobby and Rufus grumbling as they meander over from a coffee shop around the corner bearing cups of liquid life.

“Our heroes,” Charlie declares.

“Don’t get too used to it,” Bobby tells her. “Me and Rufus’ll probably be gone by the end of the day.”

“You guys are doing great,” Sam says, and then takes a sip of his coffee. “We’ll make sure you stick around at least one more leg just for this.”

Rufus rolls his eyes and settles down on a bench. “Don’t sabotage yourselves on our account.”

“We weren’t planning on it,” Dean tells him.

Nine am finally rolls around, the doors open, and Dean and Cas are allowed in to receive their next clue, followed every five minutes by the next consecutive team in line.

**“DETOUR: Punt or Bike.”**

They debate the relative merits of each activity, but there’s no clear choice that would be easier for them.

“We only have to do the boat thing for a mile,” Dean argues. “If we ride the bikes, we have to go six miles.”

“Do you know how to punt a boat, Dean?” Cas asks.

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know the streets of Cambridge, either. Can’t get lost on the river. It’s a straight shot. And it can’t be that much harder than paddling that canoe in the bayou was.”

Cas agrees with his reasoning, and they set off in their little boat, keeping their eyes peeled for the next clue since their only hint is that it’s underneath a bridge. The long, flat boat is more than roomy enough for all their gear and their cameraman, with far less concern for tipping the whole thing over than they’d had in Louisiana. In fact, the punt is designed to be propelled along while standing up, shoving it forward through the water with a long pole.

Dean and Cas take turns steering the boat with varying degrees of success, but they’re beating the relative pants off the next team to try their hand at punting, and soon they’re too far around the bend of the river to see anyone else behind them at all. It’s a mostly pleasant and scenically beautiful trip past the University and a large park. As promised, they spot the race flag and a clue box under a bridge and surrender their punt.

**“Travel on foot to the Cambridge City Centre bus terminal at Parker’s Piece, and board one of two chartered buses to Dunnottar Castle in Aberdeen, Scotland. Warning: Roadblock ahead.”**

It’s just before two in the afternoon when Dean and Cas finally find the charter bus company, with Benny and Andrea arriving just a few minutes later to claim the second reservation on the first bus.

“It’s good to see ya, brother, but it looks like we’ve got another long day of waiting ahead of us,” Benny says, flashing his ticket with a departure time of midnight listed on it.

Dean shoots him a disbelieving look, and then asks Cas to show him their own tickets to see if it’s true, just as Sam and Jess wander up looking windblown and sweaty.

“What the hell happened to you guys?” Dean asks.

“A tandem bike,” Jess replies, side-eyeing Sam as he slinks off to collect their tickets.

Benny grins at her and shakes his head. “You two were doing better than Bobby and Rufus were. Andrea and I saw them leave before we turned the bend in the river.”

“Wait, you left the punting dock after Gabriel did, and you still got here first?” Cas asks, mildly concerned for his brother.

Andrea smiles at him. “There’s no shame in it. Benny’s just at home on the water.”

“That’s not what Gabriel said when we cruised past him.” Benny suppresses a chuckle, and then shrugs. “He wasn’t doing too bad. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

“I’m not sticking around to find out,” Dean says. “If we got seven hours to kill before this show gets back on the road, I’m gonna find some lunch.”

“Now I understand why they gave us so much cash for this particular leg. It was to keep you from starving to death on eternal layovers,” Cas replies.

It’s a small consolation when they arrive back at the station just before their departure time to discover that the bus is far superior to the one they’d taken to Iguacu. It’s smaller than the American buses Dean’s used to as well, but there’s plenty of room for its twelve passengers to stretch out in. They’ve also only got about an eight hour trip instead of the seventeen hours of their last bus ride, and the seats are more than comfortable enough to easily fall asleep in.

Only four teams made the first bus, with the remaining four leaving fifteen minutes later. It takes a little bit of the pressure off of Dean. He knows Cas is up next in the rotation for the Roadblock challenge and he always worries more about Cas having to bear the burden of completing the tasks than he worries about himself. Ornery camels excepted.

Despite not having showered in what feels like months, they emerge from the bus outside the grounds of Dunnottar Castle at 9:30 the next morning feeling more refreshed than they have in days. The air is cool for June, and it’s refreshing and invigorating after the heat of the African bush. They only have to run a short way down a narrow roadway leading up to a seaside cliff to find the next clue box, situated outside a tent set up in the visitors parking area. They already expect it’ll be their Roadblock clue, so Dean waves one hand toward the box assuming that Cas will take his turn, whatever the challenge may be.

**“ROADBLOCK: Who’s feeling a little gamey?”**

Cas reads it out loud, and Dean doubles over in laughter.

“Shit, we’re all a little gamey,” Dean says between guffaws.

“I assume that means I should just accept the challenge, then?” Cas asks, fanning himself with the envelope to show Dean that he’s about to tear it open, giving him one last chance to discuss the matter seriously.

“If you’re up for it, sure, Cas. Go on. I’ll do it if you need me to, though. Maybe they’re gonna give us a bubble bath. God knows I could use one.”

“We must be closing in on the next pit stop, and seeing as how we’re firmly within the bounds of civilization right now, I am pinning all our hopes on having accommodations that include functioning plumbing by sundown.”

He delivers his proclamation like he’s making a wish and then tears open the envelope.

**“Both team members must proceed into the costume tent to be properly outfitted to participate in the Highland Games. The designated team member must then complete three of the games to the judges' satisfaction to receive your next clue.”**

“Highland games?” Dean says. “That actually sounds like fun. I had to get up close and personal with a camel and you get to play games?”

Cas just grins and shrugs, and then makes his way into the tent, followed by a slightly less enthused Dean.

They’re met with several racks of violently clashing plaid clothing, and Dean’s mood picks up instantly.

“This looks just like your closet, Dean,” Charlie says as an attendant hands her a lovely lilac plaid skirt. “You probably feel right at home.”

Dean shrugs off his backpack and holds his red and blue plaid clad arms out with a grin. “Hit me with it.”

A woman wearing a lurid yellow plaid skirt hands Dean a blue and green plaid length of cloth and a poofy white shirt. Dean stares at it for a minute just blinking at it until Cas snaps him out of his daze. He looks up to see Cas holding an identical outfit, and then lets himself be led to a small changing room. He must look extra-pitiful, because Cas squeezes into the curtained cubicle with him and begins stripping off his shirts.

“Put on your kilt, Dean. I can’t start the challenge until you’re dressed. We’re losing time.”

That finally kicks Dean into gear, and he and Cas struggle and fidget to get the buckles and clasps sorted out.

“Aren’t you supposed to go commando under a kilt?” Dean asks.

“Not at the Highland Games, dearie. This is a family event,” one of the ladies working in the tent replies through the curtain.

Dean gives Cas a surprised frown, and then finally looks his husband up and down.

“Damn, Bumblebee, you look hot in a kilt,” he mumbles in Cas’s ear, and then gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “For luck, I guess.”

When Dean pulls back, Cas is looking him over hungrily. “Speaking of looking hot in a kilt. I hope they let us wear these to the pit stop. I’m looking forward to getting you out of it at my leisure.”

Frustratingly, or perhaps blessedly, their eavesdropper interrupts them again.

“The kilts are yours to keep,” she says, while Dean and Cas compose themselves and finally exit the changing room. “The tartans were selected for you specifically. That’s clan Campbell you’re wearing.”

“Like mom,” Dean says.

The woman smiles at him. She nods in approval and pats Dean’s cheek. “Now go make her proud, son.”

“It’ll be Cas trying to make her proud today, but I’m sure she would be,” Dean replies, and then follows Cas out of the tent and up the long and winding path to the clifftop castle grounds.

At the top of the path lies a large open field surrounded by numerous ancient stone buildings in various states of ruin. There’s also a crowd of about forty people all dressed for the games. A bagpipe and drum corps plays music while a group of girls dances, and large men are throwing telephone poles around like toothpicks.

“Well, it looks like tiddlywinks isn’t on the game menu today,” Dean says, slapping Cas on the back in encouragement as he runs off toward the first challenge.

Dean joins Jess and Gilda on the sidelines, and they’re joined a few minutes later by Andrea. They watch their partners take turns trying to toss the caber so that it lands within the marked boundary lines. Sam is up first, and while he doesn’t seem to have much trouble lifting the long pole, it’s a matter of balancing it upright that seems to throw him off. It spins sideways through the air and lands perpendicular to the marked lines.

“It’s all good, Sam!” Jess shouts out. “You’ve got the feel of it for next time now!”

Sam shrugs and shoots her a small smile and then stands back to watch Charlie have a go. She has trouble even lifting the log at first, and it doesn’t make the required flip in the air before coming to a rest on the ground.

“At least it’s pointing the right way,” Charlie says, stepping out of the way for Cas to take his turn.

Dean watches nervously as Cas studies the log at his feet like he was trying to weigh it with his mind, or maybe telepathically convince it to do his bidding. After a moment, he bends over, picks it up like it weighs nothing-- which absolutely doesn’t turn Dean’s knees to jelly at the thought of Cas picking him up like that-- and gracefully flips the entire log over. It comes to rest in the exact center of the target area. All of the judges and a fair few number of bystanders just stare at it for a second, then turn astonished blinking eyes up at Cas.

“Go on, then,” one of the judges says after a stunned moment, and Cas runs off to the next task.

“See ya later, suckers,” Dean tells his companions, and then rushes off to watch Cas try his hand at the hammer toss.

Dean’s almost disappointed that, even after a brief lesson from one of the judges, it still takes two tries for Cas to throw what looks to Dean like a gigantic lollipop, but might more accurately be described as a cannonball attached to the end of a long stick, the required distance. He still can’t figure out why it’s called a hammer, but that’s neither here nor there, because Cas perfects the tricky spinning technique on his second attempt. Dean appreciates the view when Cas’s kilt flips up while he’s twirling around to throw the thing, but he’s also relieved they got the warning about not going commando. They’re just moving on to the third and final event when Benny comes trotting over in his kilt.

“You sure your boy there ain’t part Scot?” Benny asks, grinning.

Dean just shrugs and runs to catch up with Cas. He arrives just in time to watch him pick up and throw a heavy stone, easily clearing the minimum distance required. The judge hands Cas their next clue and then he’s back at Dean’s side, a little winded and flushed from the exertion, but with a wild, triumphant look in his eyes. It’s a really good look on him and Dean pulls him in to show him exactly what he thinks of it. Cas grabs his face with both hands and stops Dean from pulling out of the congratulatory kiss too soon, so Dean reaches up and snatches the envelope out of Cas’s hand, and tears it open while his husband is distracted.

**“Travel on foot to the castle and search the grounds for the next Pit Stop. Warning: The last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

Cas grins at Dean, grabs his hand, and drags him through the ancient ruins in search of the mat. They finally spot Bela standing beside a woman decked out in an elaborate tartan costume with a long skirt and velvet bodice.

“Aye-aye min! Welcome to Dunnottar Castle.”

Cas studies the woman intently for a moment and then turns a significant glance at Dean. Bela interrupts him before Dean can ask what that was all about, but he figures he’ll find out soon enough, and contents himself with flinging an arm around Cas’s shoulders and holding him close for the time being.

“Well, well, well! Cas and Dean, you are once again team number one. And I’ve been told you’re a natural at the caber toss, Cas.”

Cas fidgets for a moment under Dean’s arm and then confesses. “I may have had a bit of experience with the event.”

“Do tell!” Bela says with some excitement.

Dean has to suppress a laugh, because Bela finally thinks she’s got a handle on Cas, but Dean’s pretty sure she’s only setting herself up for another disappointment.

“When I was in high school, we were tasked to construct a life-sized replica of the cross for our church. One of the other boys in our group happened to grow up in Scotland and demonstrated the skill for us at the lumber yard where we were supposed to be procuring the wood for the cross. It became a bit of a competition.” He trails off, blushing, and shrugs.

Poor Bela looks a little bit shocked by his slightly blasphemous story, but the woman standing with her just chuckles. Dean can’t stop grinning at him.

“Right, well,” Bela says, pulling herself together again. “As the winners of this leg of the race, you’ve won a seven night Alaskan cruise. Congratulations! It looks like you’re going to be busy traveling long after the race is over, at this rate.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean replies.

Cas smiles up at him. “Me, too.”

“Before we send you away, there’s a second special announcement. Since this is the Amazing Honeymoon, we’ve arranged a special celebration for you. In addition to the twelve hour mandatory pit stop, we’re giving you an additional six hours to enjoy the highland games here today. So go eat, drink, and be merry, and enjoy your extra rest while you can.”

Harry the cameraman finally switches his camera off and hands them their information packet and a hotel room key.

“The shuttle bus will take you to your hotel when you’re ready to go,” Harry tells them as they walk away from the mat and back toward the games. “You don’t have to spend the entire six hours here. Your gear is all waiting for you back in the room, as well. I’d stick around for the free food, anyway. They’re laying out quite a spread, from what I hear.”

With that, Harry takes off to resume his duties filming the games and leaves them to do whatever they want.

“So you wanna stick around for a while?” Dean asks. “Can’t pass up free food.”

“I want to see you toss the caber,” Cas replies. “After that, we can do whatever you like.”

Cas gives Dean’s kilt-clad hip a squeeze and Dean’s earlier interrupted fantasies come flooding back to him. He clears his throat and takes a few deep breaths. “I got a huge heavy pole to throw around, but I gotta go try my hand at the caber toss first?”

Cas nearly chokes on his laughter. Dean has to save his ass from falling down a stone step, and he’s barely begun to recover himself by the time they make it back to the competition field. He smiles up at Dean. “Is that an agreeable agenda for the rest of the afternoon, then?”

“Sounds like a plan, Cas.”

They end up staying at the games for several more hours, cheering on their friends as they make their way through the events and then enjoying a late lunch feast together. They watch Bobby struggle to complete the caber toss, and then nearly throw his back out finally completing the hammer throw.

“It was inevitable, boy,” Bobby tells Dean when he and Rufus leave the mat after having been eliminated. “No hard feelings, but I’m more than happy to sit the rest of this race out.”

“At least we lasted long enough to enjoy this bounty,” Rufus says, grinning at the table laid out with beef, salmon, a variety of puddings and pies, and a selection of whiskeys and beer.

“Caber toss, then food,” Cas says to Dean.

Dean picks up the skill remarkably quickly, but after a few rounds of whiskey, the games soon devolve into a drunken hilarity. Cas still manages to drag him away before Dean’s too drunk to appreciate the rest of their evening. Dean declares he’s forever indebted to whoever invented the kilt.

It’s a lovely evening. Despite considering just walking to their hotel, as soon as Dean and Cas heft their backpacks for the hike back to the parking lot they make the executive decision to take the bus even if the hotel turns out to be next door. In addition to a new appreciation for kilts, they both have a renewed appreciation for the potency of Scotch. Several times over the course of the five minute ride to their hotel, Dean loudly proclaims his love for everything. Cas solemnly concurs with each of his declarations while the bus driver shows his support by restraining himself from laughing outright at the both of them.

When the driver pulls to a stop in front of the hotel, Dean and Cas thank him rather sloshily, Dean throwing one arm around Cas’s shoulders as they turn to head down the steps of the bus. They don’t exactly fit, even squished together as close as they are, and it takes three tries before they carefully pick their way sideways down the steps. Dean makes a weird growling sound and glares at the bus driver when he laughs and suggests they let go of each other, and when they finally make it out onto the sidewalk Dean turns back to the man with a raised eyebrow as if to say _told you so_. The driver gives them a little salute and makes sure they actually manage to get through the hotel’s revolving door safely before having one last laugh and returning to the castle grounds to await his next run.

Dean and Cas miraculously make it to their hotel room without further incident. They drop their backpacks and unceremoniously shove their long-awaited gear bags off the bed.

“Remind me why you can’t wear that kilt for the rest of the race,” Dean says when Cas pushes him down into the pillows and crawls into his lap.

“We’d be eliminated in the next leg because you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself for more than five minutes,” Cas replies, his hands running up Dean’s thighs under his kilt.

Cas slides off his lap the second his hands reach Dean’s boxers.

“No, where are you going?” Dean whines, but Cas is crouched down at the side of the bed, unlacing his boots.

“I’m coming right back.”

Cas doesn’t even bother with his socks, just leaves them on and stands up, shucking off his own underwear from beneath his kilt. He wiggles his hips around in a little hula, the pleats of his kilt flaring out.

“This is quite pleasurable. I can see why people enjoy this,” he says, while Dean just lies there staring at the heavy fabric barely concealing Cas’s growing erection.

Cas glances down at Dean, still just lying there.

“I can’t fuck you unless you remove your underpants, Dean.”

Dean snaps into action, raising his hips and fishing around under layers of wool until he grabs ahold of his boxers and flails around on the bed yanking them off. Cas rolls his eyes and sighs at his husband, now trapped with his shorts tangled around his boots.

“‘S what you want, babe? You wanna pick me up like that caber and toss me around?” Dean gives up trying to free himself by kicking his feet around and sits up to pull off his boots.

Cas crawls back up onto the bed to help him. “I thought you had your own huge pole you wanted to throw.”

Dean gets one of his boots off and drops it on the floor, turning to Cas while he’s bent over, kneeling across Dean’s lap to pull off his other shoe. Dean runs his hand up the back of Cas’s thigh, up under all the pleats of the kilt, and hums appreciatively.

“We’ve got all night, babe.”

Cas drops Dean’s other shoe to the floor and arches his back, bracing himself with one hand on the bed and the other on Dean’s thigh. “We do have to sleep eventually.”

Dean’s hand continues its exploration as he drops back into the pillows. “Sleep’s for airplanes and sidewalks. We got a comfy bed for the next, what? Fourteen hours or so? I’m gonna use it wisely.”

Cas doesn’t move for another few minutes, just enjoying having Dean’s hands on him, but then slides away again. He lays himself across Dean’s lap and reaches over the side of the bed for the closest duffel bag to fish out a bottle of lube.

“In that case, there’s no time to lose.”

The next six hours or so prove to be a high point of the race so far. When they eventually get sobered up enough to shower, and then finally get around to repacking their gear, they roll up their new kilts and shove them to the bottom of one of their bags as if it were a funeral.

“That’s the first thing we’re unpacking when we get home,” Dean says. Cas can’t argue with that sentiment.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cas must navigate Norway with a map printed in Spanish, because why the hell not?

Their alarm rings at 5:00 am, but for the first time in a week Dean’s not only well rested, he’s also freshly showered and fully sated. Well, he could use a decent breakfast and a cup of coffee, but he’s got no other complaints.

They’re spared the arduous trek back up to the castle where the pit stop check in mat had been, and instead only have to hike a couple of blocks from their hotel to a local park to receive their next clue. Even though they arrive about five minutes before their scheduled departure time, their new cameraman is already waiting for them.

“Andy,” the man says, extending a hand for Dean and then Cas to shake. “Nice to meet you. You couldn’t have finished a little later yesterday? We could’ve all slept in for another hour or two.”

Cas glares at him for a second, and Andy backtracks under the force of it.

“Hey, just kidding, all right? Go team.”

Andy checks his watch, fiddles with his camera, and then checks his watch again before finally handing over the clue.

**“Take a taxi to Aberdeen Airport and then fly to Oslo, Norway.”**

It’s a little difficult to find a cab that early in the morning, but they eventually manage it after walking a couple more blocks toward the center of town. Cas reads the rest of the clue to himself on their way to the airport. He doesn’t bother reading it out for Dean yet. There’s no reason to alarm Dean further when he’s just beginning to accept that airplanes might not have been specifically created by the devil to torment him.

**“Find one of the marked cars in the airport parking lot and drive yourselves to Holmenkollbakken, where you’ll find your next clue. Warning: Roadblock ahead.”**

“It’s going to be a short flight,” is what Cas eventually tells Dean as a temporary compromise. “Oslo is just on the other side of the North Sea from here.”

“That’s my favorite kind of flight,” Dean replies. “After the last few legs, I’m not gonna argue with short flights.”

“As long as they don’t stick us on any more buses for a while,” Cas agrees.

There’s only two direct flights a day from Aberdeen to Oslo, and every team manages to make the first one, Cain and Colette arriving at the gate only minutes before the scheduled departure time. They make their way to their seats, breathing hard from the exertion of running through the terminal. With all seven teams rushing their way through customs in Oslo and then running through the parking lot at practically the same time, things don’t get any easier once they land.

It was Dean’s turn to snag a map and guidebook at the airport, but when he couldn’t find one in English right away, he grabbed the one in Spanish rather than waste any more time rifling through the disorganized rack of pamphlets. Cas can read it, at least, which leaves Dean to drive while Cas translates.

“The roadblock is up first again, Dean,” Cas says from the back seat while Dean waits at a traffic light.

“Yeah,” Dean answers. “I know I’m next up to bat.”

Cas makes a funny little noise, like he was about to say something and then changed his mind midway through forming the words.

“You got something to say on the subject?” Dean asks, making the turn that Cas had instructed him to.

“It’s just…” Cas sighs. “Holmenkollbakken is a ski jump, Dean. Since it’s currently summer and there’s no snow, I don’t believe the roadblock will involve actual ski jumping, but it very well may involve the ramp itself in some way. If you’d rather not do something stressfully height-related, I wouldn’t mind switching places with you.”

Dean had tensed up at the mere mention of ski jumping. Since he was a kid, bring up skiing of any sort and all he can picture is that “Agony of defeat” guy from the Wide World of Sports going down the hill ass over teakettle, and he has absolutely no desire to ever experience that specific kind of defeat. But hey, no snow means no skiing. Sure he might have to climb to the top of the thing, or whatever, but it can’t be _that_ high. Or at least he _hopes_.

He clears his throat and tries to sound as calm as possible, but his knuckles are turning white on the steering wheel and he’s pretty sure Cas can tell. “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

Cas gently pats his shoulder and then gives him the next direction en route to the ski jump.

They arrive third behind Sam and Jess, and Jody and Donna. Dean parks the car just in time to see Jess take off toward an impossibly long flight of stairs running alongside the ridiculously high ski jump. Donna sets off after her a minute later while he swallows hard, pulls his doom from the clue box, and tears it open.

**“ROADBLOCK: Who’s ready to perform an Olympic feat?”**

Well, fuck this clue. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and croaks out, “I guess that would be me,” and then tears the envelope open before Cas can offer to go in his place again.

Cas stands by his side, one hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder while he reads his instructions.

**“One team member must climb to the top of the ski jump, then ride a zipline 1,000 feet (300 m) to the bottom in order to receive your next clue.”**

“You can do this, Dean,” Cas whispers, and then kisses the bolt of his jaw.

“Yeah, I can,” he replies, and then runs off for the stairs. At least he’s sure he can handle the stairs.

He gets to the top and finds Donna trying to catch her breath, and Jess all strapped in to her safety harness and about ready to leap from the platform.

“See you guys at the bottom,” Jess yells, and then jumps. They hear her cackling the whole way down.

“Hooboy,” Donna says, when one of the attendants on the platform hands her and Dean each a safety harness. “That sure was a lot of stairs. At least we don’t have to climb back down, right?” She flashes Dean her trademark grin and sets to work climbing into the harness.

“I’d rather climb than plummet to my death any day,” Dean says, only half joking.

“Aw, Dean,” she says, taking a break from figuring out the complicated harness to step right up in front of him. “You got this. Just like you did when we jumped off that cliff in Rio. Just like you did when you got on that first airplane back in Kansas. You don’t let yourself believe for a second there’s anything you can’t do.”

Looking down into her earnest face, Dean almost believes her.

“Yeah, well, I’m finding there’s a lot of shit I’m willing to do for a shot at a million bucks,” he replies. It’s the most honest thing he could come up with, and it makes Donna laugh.

“You betcha, and if that’s what it takes to get you out on that wire, then that’s good enough for today.”

Dean passes his safety inspection first, and Donna doesn’t begrudge him the chance to slip ahead of her in line. Andrea’s arrived on the platform while they were gearing up, and she and Donna both wish Dean good luck before he closes his eyes and jumps. He’s halfway down the wire before he realizes he never even got a good look at the view from the top of the hill, so he opens his eyes and immediately regrets having closed them in the first place.

The entire city spreads out before him, but an even better sight is Cas standing at the bottom of the line waving his arms wildly and cheering him on. Dean spares one more glance around at the landscape and then focuses entirely on his Bumblebee for the rest of the ride.

He’s grinning when he reaches the bottom and is unhooked from the line. It takes less than a minute to undo his safety harness and trade it in for their next clue, and then he’s running over to get squished in a congratulatory hug.

“So how was it?” Cas asks, unable to keep the grin from his face.

“I’d kinda like to do it again,” Dean replies, letting out a surprised burst of laughter when he realizes he actually means it, and then tears open the envelope.

**“Drive yourselves to the Viking Village in Avaldses to receive your next clue.”**

“Hey, they gave us driving directions for once,” Dean says, pulling out a slip of paper with what looks like Google Map instructions printed on it.

“I guess they want us all to make the next route marker in a timely fashion,” Cas replies.

Dean shrugs, and they set out on what turns out to be a more than six hour drive. He’s about to ask Cas if he’s sure this is the right place when they pull into the parking lot at the Viking Village and see Sam and Jess getting out of their car looking equally road weary and unsure if they’ve arrived at the proper destination.

“You made it without a map, Sammy,” Dean shouts at his brother from across the parking lot. “Good for you.”

He sees Jess grab her gear and toss Sam his pack, and then exchanges a glance with Cas. They’d been about to run for their next clue and leave their bags in the car. Cas tilts his head and gives a little shrug. Andy the cameraman is already waiting a dozen yards away with all his gear. After a moment of silent deliberation, they both sling their bags over their shoulders and then head off after Sam and Jess. It’s inconvenient to have to lug all their gear everywhere, but it is getting on toward evening and this might very well be their next pit stop. At least, Dean can hope.

They find the clue box next to another pinboard with the numbers 2 through 7 still pinned to it, Sam victoriously waving the little card with a huge 1 on it and laughing as he and Jess run off through the historical village of quaint old wooden buildings.

Dean just shakes his head at his brother and tears open the next envelope.

**“Find the boathouse, and then row a Viking boat across the fjord to receive your next clue.”**

“That’s it?” Dean asks, turning the slip of paper over and then checking the envelope to be sure he wasn’t missing anything. “No Detour? No pit stop?”

Cas shrugs and pulls the number 2 from the board. “I guess this leg is proving to be longer than we were expecting.”

It doesn’t take long to catch up to Sam and Jess at the strangely modern-looking but ancient boathouse. It looks like a huge wooden dome, almost like the overturned hull of a gigantic ship, but there’s three long wooden boats with what look like tall dragon heads carved into each end resting in the water in front of its open barn doors.

Sam hands over their number to one of the men in the first boat, and then he and Jess and their cameraman are climbing aboard, shrugging out of their backpacks, and picking up oars. Cas hands their number to the man and woman in the next boat, and then Andy breaks the Cameraman Code of Silence, much to everyone’s shock.

“Little help here?” he asks, holding out his gear bag without looking away from his camera, still filming right through his own shame.

Dean sighs, but he takes the bag and stows it in the boat before climbing in himself. Andy settles in on another of the boat’s wide benches, facing Dean and Cas where they’re sharing another, each of them manning one of the weighty wooden oars.

“Okay, you know how to row a rowboat?” the woman asks, turning around to check on Dean and Cas.

They both nod, and the woman smiles.

“Good. Then we go.”

It’s only about a ten minute paddle, but it’s still difficult work propelling the heavy boat across the strong current of the fjord. They almost catch Sam and Jess on the opposite bank. When their boat sidles up to shore, Dean and Cas climb out on the other side, Andy again asking for help with his gear, and then receive their clue from the man at the stern. Across the fjord, Jody and Donna are just setting out from the boathouse, but Dean can also see Benny and Andrea waiting back on the other shore for Sam and Jess’s boat to return so they can make the trip across.

“Guess it’s a good thing we brought our gear with us,” Cas says, watching their boat head back across the fjord without them.

Dean snorts, and then tears open the clue.

**“Take a train to Voss Station, then drive yourselves to the Voss resort and search the grounds for your next clue. Warning, Detour ahead.”**

“A train _and_ a drive,” Dean says. “Sounds like it’s gonna be a long night.”

“How are we supposed to get to the train station from here?” Cas says, paging through his now useless Oslo guidebook in search of a map of the rest of Norway.

“Excuse me,” Dean calls out to a man parking his car on the nearby street. “Train station?” He doesn’t expect the man to understand English, and he’s about to start making choo-choo noises, but he lucks out.

“Four blocks that way, then turn right,” the man says, gesturing the way with one hand. He then wishes them a pleasant evening and heads into a nearby restaurant.

Dean shrugs at Cas, and they set off, wondering where the hell Sam and Jess disappeared to. They find out soon enough, once they’ve bought their tickets and are standing out on the platform waiting for their train to arrive.

“How’d you guys get here so fast?” Dean asks, settling down on a bench next to Cas.

Sam shrugs, like it’s some huge secret, but Jess rolls her eyes and says, “We tried to hail a cab, but some random dude pulled over and asked if we needed any help. The guy was on his way here anyway, so he gave us a lift. I think he thought we might be famous or something, since we’ve got a camera following us around everywhere.”

“Is that against the rules?” Cas asks. “They won’t penalize you for that, will they?”

Sam looks freaked out for a second, takes one petrified glance at Jess, and then musters up his most lawyerly tone, “It didn’t say anything in the clue about how we were supposed to travel to the train station.”

“I think we’re in the clear this time,” Jess adds.

Jody and Donna turn up before the train arrives, but as soon as they board, Dean drags Cas off in search of the dining car, so they don’t have any idea how many other teams may have made the train.

“We haven’t had real food since…” Dean has to actually stop and think about it. He’s had like three of Cas’s granola bars since they landed in Oslo, but the last real food they ate was on the plane that morning and now they’re watching the sun set as they pull out of the station. Dean’s stomach doesn’t so much as grumble but roar. “Breakfast, dammit.”

Cas pats Dean’s complaining belly and smiles. “We have four whole hours to eat and rest, and the dining car is just through there,” he says, pointing into the next car.

They spend an hour devouring sandwiches. When Dean falls asleep on his shoulder, Cas decides it’s best not to wake him and spends the rest of the journey napping on and off with his cheek resting atop Dean’s head.

He has to poke Dean awake when they arrive in Voss. Dean grumbles about being woken up so suddenly and they barely make it off the train before it pulls away again. When they arrive at the parking lot outside the station it’s almost three in the morning and there’s only three marked cars left in the lot.

“Dammit,” Dean says. “We were in second place before the damn train put me to sleep.”

“I’ll drive,” Cas tells him. “I studied the map while you were resting and I know exactly where we need to go.”

It’s considerably colder out that late at night and Dean uses his time in the back seat to dig their jackets out of their backpacks. By the time Cas parks at the resort they’ve overtaken Charlie and Gilda, who they saw pulled over along the side of the road trying to figure out their map. Cas considered stopping to give them directions, but Dean could tell they weren’t in any sort of distress and told him to keep going.

“That’s not very friendly of you, Dean,” Cas says, but he doesn’t stop either.

“I’ll be friendly with my friends when we’re back in the lead,” Dean replies.

“This race is bringing out a very competitive side in you.”

Dean shrugs, and Cas keeps driving.

As soon as Cas parks, they take a moment to pull on their coats and then bring their bags along with them. They learned their lesson about leaving them behind at the Viking Village. They find the next clue box right up in front of the main entrance to the resort. Cas grabs the clue this time, while Dean peeks over his shoulder to see that there are only two envelopes left in the box.

“We haven’t been this far back… ever,” Dean says when Cas rips open the envelope.

“Don’t worry, Dean, I think we’re about to get a chance to redeem ourselves.”

“ **DETOUR: Endurance or Accuracy.”**

“I don’t think I got a lot of either at the moment,” Dean says, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up.

“Well, let’s see what each task requires before jumping to conclusions,” Cas says, holding up the paper with the rest of their instructions printed on it.

“Fine, hit me with it.”

“Endurance: Roller ski down…” Cas begins, and that’s as far as he gets before Dean says, “Nope. What’s the other one?”

“You don’t even want to know what roller skiing entails?” Cas asks, completely failing to rein in his smirk.

“Do you even know me at all?” Dean asks, feigning hurt. “Dude, it’s skiing with wheels. It sounds ridiculous and terrible. What’s the other one?”

Cas grins and reads the other one. “Accuracy: Successfully complete three games played by the Vikings.”

“Yes,” Dean says, grabbing Cas’s hand and dragging him off in the direction the route marker sign indicates. “We kicked ass at Scottish games, how hard could Viking games be?”

They arrive at a field lit with flaming torches and populated with a motley array of men and women dressed in traditional Viking clothing and looking far too cheerful for 3:00 am, in Dean’s opinion. Jody and Donna are already hard at work on the first challenge, but Dean’s surprised that there aren’t any other teams there.

“Did everyone else do the skiing thing?” Dean asks.

Jody turns and shrugs at him. “I guess they thought it sounded faster, yeah.”

The first game, which they’re informed is something called _kubb_ , involves throwing sticks to knock down a bunch of other sticks set up in a circle. It’s harder than it looks, and after Jody and Donna each unsuccessfully take a turn, Cas steps up to try his hand at the game.

“It’s like a cross between lawn darts and bowling,” Dean says after Cas tosses his first stick and takes out one of the four blocks standing up at the other end of the playing field.

“Hush, Dean, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“You got this, Bumblebee. I believe in you.”

His next toss takes out two more of the blocks, and his final toss takes the last one.

Dean takes his turn at the game and knocks over all his blocks in two tries, before leveling the final post with his third toss just as Cas had done.

“Easier than knocking down milk bottles at the county fair,” Dean says to the judge with a grin.

“Nice job,” the man replies, handing him a wooden block painted to look like the race flag.

“Good luck, guys,” Dean says to Jody and Donna as they make their way toward the next challenge.

“Yeah, I think we’re gonna need it.”

“At least you’re not roller skiing,” Dean calls back over his shoulder.

“Small favors,” Donna says, lining up to take another shot at the sticks.

Across the field from the kubb game are an archery range and a huge tree trunk that one man is casually tossing axes at.

“You each must complete one of these tasks,” another man says holding out a bow in one hand and an axe in the other. “Choose wisely.”

Without a word, Dean reaches for the axe, but then hesitates before taking it. “You good with the bow, Cas?”

“I took archery for one semester in college,” he replies. When Dean gives him a strange look, he says, “What, it was either that or Jazzercise. They were the only two physical education electives that fit into my schedule.”

“That worked out well for us, then,” Dean says, taking the axe with a grin. “But now I can’t help imagining you in spandex sweatin’ to the oldies.”

“I’m fairly confident I’m skilled enough to shoot you in a non-vital portion of your ass,” Cas says, inspecting the arrow he’s been handed and then giving Dean a very serious look that he maybe spoils just a bit because he can’t keep the smile from his lips.

Dean lets out a nervous laugh. “There’s not a non-vital part of my ass, Cas. My entire ass is vital.”

Cas just grins at his husband. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Damn right I’m right.”

Dean shakes off his husband’s joking threat and takes a few deep breaths. He strolls right up to the line in front of the tree trunk target, weighs the balance of the axe and then flips it over in his hand a few times. He takes one look back at Cas, winks, and then hurls the axe at the tree. It sticks on the first try, and he turns to Cas and takes a bow.

“When have you ever thrown an axe before, Dean?” Cas asks as they move to the archery range.

“I haven’t,” Dean says with a shrug. “Knives, yeah, but I figured an axe wouldn’t be much different.”

Cas stares at him for a beat and then asks, “When have you ever thrown knives before, Dean?”

“All the time when I was a kid. What, you know the kinds of things my dad used to drag us out on. Throwing knives was pretty tame compared with some of that shit. Now shoot your arrow so we can get our next clue.”

Cas spends about as long getting used to the feel of the long wooden bow as Dean did getting the feel of his axe. The arrow lands just outside the bullseye ring at the center of the target, but the objective wasn’t a bullseye, apparently. Just sticking the arrow in the target is enough to earn them their next clue.

They step out of the way for Jody and Donna to take their places at the archery and axe throwing challenge and then open what Dean hopes is their last envelope for a while.

“ **Proceed on foot to the next pit stop, at the cabin marked “bryllupsfesten”. Warning: the last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

“What the hell’s a brillop festen?” Dean asks. “And half this mountain’s covered with cabins. This ain’t actually helpful information in the dark.”

“I don’t speak Norwegian, but I’m fairly certain that ‘festen’ translates as ‘party,’” Cas says, digging through his pack for his head lamp. “Which might make our search easier.”

“Look for the party,” Dean says, holding his own head lamp in his hand rather than risking showing up at a party looking like a wayward coal miner. “I can do that.”

He takes a deep breath and they set out up the side of the mountain toward the resort area. It’s not a traditional American-style resort with a huge hotel at the middle. It’s terraced row upon row of small cabins lining a road of switchbacks all the way up the side of the mountain. Looking down from the third or fourth terrace, the cabins below melt into the landscape, their sod roofs resembling beds of wildflowers more than any sign of civilization. It’s pretty, but in the dark Dean still finds it slightly unsettling, like an optical illusion. He knows there’s dozens of houses down there, hiding under a camouflage of nature.

“They remind me of hobbit houses,” Cas says when he catches Dean looking back the way they came.

Dean thinks about that for a second and then shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll buy that.” It’s a better description than the more sinister thoughts his own mind had been conjuring up.

After another few minutes of hiking, Cas comes up with another plan. “You know, we could use our winnings to visit New Zealand and see the site where they filmed the movies. Bag End, Hobbiton. It’s all still there.”

Dean thinks about that for far longer than a second. When he doesn’t answer right away, Cas goes on.

“I never would’ve suggested it before because it’s such a long plane ride, but now,” he waves a hand at Dean and grins. “It’s nowhere near as long as that flight to Ouagadougou was, and I believe you’d enjoy that destination far more. I could even guarantee there would be no camel milking involved.”

Dean laughs and pulls Cas into a one-armed hug. “Yeah, we’ll see. Maybe that’ll be the next leg of the this trip anyway.” He kisses Cas’s temple and they keep slogging up the interminable hill.

On the next switchback they hear music drifting down from above and start peeking between the cabins in search of the source. They spot a light a few terraces farther up and decide to risk cutting between the buildings and scaling the hill directly toward the source of the noise. Andy the cameraman just stands on the road below them, filming their ascent and not even bothering to try and follow them up the steep and rocky ravine in the dark. Clambering up the last rise, they’re just in time to watch Sam and Jess leaving the Pit Stop mat before stumbling up the rest of the steep slope and nearly collapsing at Bela’s feet.

The woman standing next to her this time is wearing a beautifully embroidered blue dress, and greets them with, “Hallo, welcome to Voss, Norway.”

“Hello, Dean and Castiel,” Bela says. “You certainly chose the hard road to the mat tonight.”

“Shortcut,” Dean says, hunching over and resting his hands on his knees, panting from the exertion of the rough climb.

“I see. Well it seems to have given you a slight advantage,” she says, as Jody and Donna come jogging up the road to the mat.

The Norwegian woman repeats her greeting for them, and then Bela welcomes them.

“Dean and Cas, you’re team number two, which means Donna and Jody, you are team number three. Good work, all of you. Between the Highland games and now the Viking games, I have to say that all four of you have set yourselves apart as very strong competitors.”

“We’re just strong in general,” Donna says, giving Jody a fist bump.

“Well, enjoy your rest tonight. I know it’s late, but please feel free to partake of the small wedding party we’ve arranged for you inside, and we’ll see you tomorrow refreshed and ready for the next leg of the race.”

“Ah, bryllupsfesten,” Cas says, finally understanding. “Wedding party.”

“Ja det er riktig. That’s correct,” the woman with Bela replies, happy that Cas figured it out.

The four of them wander into the nearby cabin, followed by their respective cameramen. Andy had strolled up just as they were dismissed from the mat, his camera already stowed away for the night. Sam and Jess come over and hand them each a small glass of champagne as they dump their backpacks to the ground and Dean peruses the spread of cheeses and pastries as well as a selection of local beer.

So you guys are still in this thing, huh?” Sam asks. “What took you so long to get here?”

“You beat us by two whole minutes, Sammy,” Dean says, throwing back his champagne in a single gulp so he can get to the real drinks.

“More like five,” Jess says. “We were having a nice chat with Sigrun and Bela about the winter skiing around here.”

“You braved the roller skiing successfully, then?” Cas asks, making himself up a plate.

Jess nods. “My parents used to take me skiing every winter when I was a kid. It wasn’t much different than that.”

“That doesn’t explain how Bambi here made it down the hill in one piece,” Dean replies, stepping out of the way with his loaded plate so one of the cameramen can grab a snack from the table. It looks like everyone’s officially invited to the party, and he doesn’t begrudge them the break, either.

“Bambi?” Sam asks, giving Dean a curious look. “Really, Dean?”

“Come on, Sam,” Dean says, exasperated and a little embarrassed. “When he walks out on the ice in the movie?” Dean puts his plate and his beer down to make wild scrambling motions with his arms. “He’s all legs and can’t stand up.”

Everyone just gawps at Dean for a second. Cas is the only one that looks even remotely like Dean’s done something adorable, though, and that’s all Dean really cares about. He picks up his beer and his plate and drags his husband over to one of the small tables set up on the other side of the room.

“It’s a classic of animation,” Dean insists, and then tucks into his pastries.

“I guess Jess is a good teacher,” Sam says. “I only landed on my ass what, five times in a mile and a half?”

He glances over at Jess for confirmation and she gives him the thumbs up and nods, too busy eating to answer out loud.

“Why do you think I’m standing up right now?” Sam asks. “I’m not looking forward to travelling tomorrow. Or doing anything that involves sitting.”

Jess swallows and then asks, “But is that little bit of pain right now worth the trip to Greece?”

“That’s what you guys won?” Jody asks. “Sounds nice.”

Benny and Andrea turn up then and Sam repeats his greeter act, handing them each a drink, since everyone else is happily seated.

“As long as we wait until I’m fully recovered first, yeah it’ll make a nice, relaxing vacation. A little pain right now is definitely worth it,” he replies with a grin.

When the rest of the teams finally arrive, their cameramen hand over their information packets and bid them all a good night. Cain and Colette, having arrived last and been eliminated, departed with Bela and her crew for the airport. The rest of the remaining teams spread out into three adjacent cabins to while away the next twelve hours.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean and Cas face off against their arch-nemesis: Ikea furniture.

“Down to six,” Dean says the next afternoon at breakfast, which consists of the leftovers from the previous night’s party spread.

“Still hanging in there,” Gabriel replies. “Barely.”

He and Kali had arrived at the pit stop just minutes before Cain and Colette.

“Come, now,” Gilda replies, nudging Gabriel’s foot with her toe as she walks past his outstretched legs on her way to Charlie’s table. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

“Of course we are,” Kali replies, her feet up on Gabriel’s lap where he’s giving them a massage. “It’s just unrelenting.”

“Looks like you’re relenting just fine right now,” Dean says.

She grins at him and then closes her eyes, dismissing him.

“Well, first we gotta run back down this mountain to where we all left our cars last night,” Benny says.

“At least we’re not starting out the journey running _up_ a mountain for once,” Andrea replies, and Benny just leans over and kisses her cheek.

“Too right, chere.”

Sam and Jess head outside at 4:06 pm, and then Dean and Cas say their farewells to the remaining teams before going out at 4:11. They’re met by a young woman who introduces herself as Kate, points a camera at them, and then hands them their first clue. Dean smiles politely at her, and she rolls her eyes and keeps filming.

“ **Take a train to Oslo, and from there take a bus to Stockholm, Sweden. Take a taxi to the Ice Bar to receive your next clue.”**

“Another bar,” Dean says, following Cas back down their shortcut between the cabins. “It’s gonna be a fun night in Stockholm.”

“More like morning, by the time we get there,” Cas replies, bounding down the hill ahead of him.

Dean groans at the thought of yet another marathon bus trip and hurries to catch up.

Turns out Cas was pretty accurate with his travel estimate. They all arrive in Oslo just after midnight, and after riding the bus for the rest of the night it’s nearly 10:00 the next morning before their cab pulls up outside the rather nondescript looking bar. Then Dean opens the door to the bar and his opinion of the place changes instantly.

“Holy fuck it’s fucking freezing in here,” he blurts, just as an attendant hands him a wooly poncho and a pair of heavy mittens. He pulls them on without even thinking about how ridiculous he looks in the huge, fluffy poncho.

“It’s still cold,” Cas replies, rubbing his mittened hands together for warmth.

“Well, there’s the problem,” Dean says, looking around the room. “When they said Ice Bar, they weren’t kidding.”

Everything in the room, including the room itself, is made of ice. The bar, the floors, the tables and chairs, the _ceiling_. Even the glasses the bartender is filling with vodka are made of ice. The room doesn’t have traditional lights, either. It’s like they’ve been infused into the ice itself and every surface glows with a cool blue light which makes it feel even colder than it probably is. In the middle of the room is a container that vaguely resembles the usual clue box, only it’s made of ice with a red and yellow banner frozen inside the front panel. Dean peeks inside and finds their next clue. He grumbles something about having to take off his mittens to rip it open, and then does it as quickly as possible so he can jam his hand back into the warmth.

“ **Serve a single drink. Take turns sliding an ice glass down the bar. When one member of your team succeeds, you’ll receive your next clue from the bartender.”**

“Well, this shouldn’t be too hard,” Dean grins, and Cas returns it.

They’ve both spent countless hours helping Ellen run her bar, filling in on especially busy nights to give her a break. They try to make it fun for themselves and the patrons by pulling as many bartender stunts as Ellen will let them get away with, and one of their favorites is sliding a drink down the bar. They’ve got this in the bag.

Sam and Jess and Charlie and Gilda are already at the bar, and Gabriel and Kali show up a minute later. From the looks of things, everyone at the bar has already made several attempts and have thus far failed to correctly gauge the correct amount of force required to slide an ice glass full of vodka across an ice bar.

The target is painted underneath a layer of ice, like the markings on a hockey rink.

“It looks like a miniature curling sheet,” Cas says, and Dean laughs.

“You’re a nerd for knowing that, but yeah. It does.”

Cas squints at Dean from beneath his furry, floppy hood. “You’re a nerd for agreeing with me, then.”

Dean just grins and shrugs, and then steps up to the bar to take his turn.

“Easy, Winchester. It’s not like playing at Ellen’s nice antique wooden bar,” Charlie says.

Dean ignores her, takes the full glass from the bartender with a nod of thanks, and lines up his shot. He slides the glass back and forth a couple of times to see just how much play there is on the unfamiliar surface and then lets it go. It coasts into the target zone and comes to a stop just shy of the center of the target.

“Of course he gets it on the first try. He does this every Friday night,” Jody says. “Cas didn’t even get a turn.”

“I’ll take a turn if you all insist,” Cas replies, grinning.

He accepts another drink from the bartender, performs a nearly identical warm-up ritual to Dean’s, and then slides it down the bar. It coasts to a stop right next to Dean’s glass, the rims practically touching, and the bartender cheers. He runs to the other end of the bar, slides both glasses back to them, and then nods, encouraging them to drink. They down their shots and then trade in their empty glasses for their next clue.

“We’ll see you guys somewhere hopefully warmer,” Dean shouts as he and Cas run for the exit, shedding their ponchos and mittens as they go.

They practically run into Benny, Andrea, Kali, and Gabe getting suited up by the front door, and then finally burst out onto the comparatively warm street.

“Please let that be the coldest thing we have to do on this race,” Dean says, rubbing feeling back into his fingertips.

Cas is blowing into his own hands. “I’ll second that,” he says, and then tears open the envelope.

“ **Travel to the world’s largest Ikea and search for your next clue. Warning: Detour Ahead.** ”

“Oh shit, they’re gonna make us build a bookshelf,” Dean says, while Cas is already at the curb trying to hail a cab.

“We don’t know that, Dean. There’s no reason to panic.” Even though he’s panicking a little bit.

When Cas moved in with Dean eight months ago, they built half a dozen Ikea bookshelves to house Cas’s extensive book collection. They’ve never spoken of that weekend again since.

In theory, spending two days building and filling bookshelves should’ve given them an advantage in a furniture building challenge. They’d had a lot of practice, after all. But assembling full-size bookshelves in a tiny bedroom already crammed with boxes upon boxes of books was probably not the most ideal way to go about it. They’d ended up trying to balance pieces on Dean’s childhood bed, which already took up much of the floor space before Cas began turning the room into his home office, and that left little space for them to work. They eventually got everything built and all the books shelved, but it had been an ordeal from start to finish. Dean’s mostly glad the entire room didn’t spontaneously combust at any point during what they both acknowledge was the greatest test of their relationship they could ever possibly endure.

The cab ride takes less than twenty minutes, so at least they don’t have too long to stress over it. When they pull up out front of the huge blue and yellow building, Cas and Dean begin scanning the sidewalk out front for the next clue box.

“They’re not gonna make us search the whole store for a clue, are they?” Dean asks, slightly panicky, as he and Cas run for the entrance.

“I certainly hope not. We may never find our way out again.”

“At least they have meatballs,” Dean replies. “We won’t starve to death.”

“You may regret that sentiment, Dean, if the challenge involves eating ridiculous quantities of meatballs.”

Dean considers that for a second and then follows Cas inside. “Not sure there is such a thing as a ridiculous quantity of meatballs.”

Cas gives him the look that comment deserves and then begins visually scouring the lobby for the clue box.

“Aah!” Cas runs over to the far side of the escalators leading into the depths of the maze-like store and retrieves their clue. “Hopefully at least a few teams will miss it and wind up running through the entire building for nothing.”

Dean grins at that. “You developing a vindictive streak there, Cas? Should I be worried?”

“Only if you plan on filing for divorce.” Cas grins at him, so Dean kisses him. What. That’s the appropriate response, okay?

Cas kisses him back and then tears open the clue.

“ **DETOUR: Count It or Build It.”**

“Son of a bitch. I fucking knew it.”

“It’s not so bad, Dean,” Cas replies. “We don’t have to build anything if you really don’t want to. There’s another option.”

“Yeah, well, what’s the rest of it say.”

**“In Count It, teams must count the number of pots, pans, and stuffed animals in three large bins. When you give the correct number to the supervisor, he will present you with your next clue; if your number is incorrect, you must count again. In Build It, assemble a desk using all of the provided parts and an instruction manual.  Once the desk is properly assembled, the supervisor will give you your next clue.** ”

“Three bins, Cas. Three _large_ bins,” Dean says. “It’s probably thousands of those little fucking finger puppet toys, too. It’s not gonna be those giant moose things or a couple dozen of the huge snakes.”

Cas considers this. “I agree with you in principle, and based on the fact we’re likely to be given an appropriate assembly area to work in, I think our previously acquired skills will finally be given an adequate stage.”

“So does that mean we’re building a desk?”

Just then Jody and Donna come bursting through the door, spot them, and run directly over to the clue box.

“It means we’re not lingering here drawing attention to the clue box, for one,” Cas says, pulling Dean along as he studies the map on their clue. “And yes, I think we should attempt to build the desk.”

“Awesome.”

They take off running for region of the store that’s been marked off and set up for their challenge. Jody and Donna arrive a minute later just as they’re getting the box torn open and beginning to pull out the pieces, and they set to work on their own desk.

Dean lays out the pieces and Cas double checks them against the list in the instruction manual. They find the tiny hex wrench included in the box and finally set to work. Jody and Donna get off to an early lead because they didn’t bother counting out all the nuts and bolts and weird little plastic bits and wooden dowels, but Dean and Cas have a system and by golly they’re sticking with it.

“So you guys build a lot of this stuff before?” Donna says, once Benny and Andrea have joined them a few minutes later.

Dean laughs a little hysterically and works even faster twisting a weird little bolt into the drawer he’s building, so Cas has to answer.

“Yes, you might say we’ve had a little bit of experience.”

Donna grins at Dean, who’s beginning to look a bit crazed, but he’s still essentially holding it together-- both the drawer and himself.

“Benny has built a lot of furniture in his time,” Andrea says, acting as shop foreman while her husband does most of the work himself. “He built all the tables and chairs at the deli himself.”

Dean pulls himself together enough to glare over at Benny, who just grins and shrugs and keeps working.

“Half my apartment is full of this stuff,” Donna says. “Put most of it together myself, too. It’s not that hard if you just follow the directions.”

She and Jody work together like a well oiled machine, responding to each other’s needs just like they do when they’re working together as sheriffs. Dean’s already seen them excel in their regular job, and it’s both nice to see they work just as well together in a non-life-threatening situation and horrible for his own morale to be so far behind in building his own desk.

Cas must sense his will faltering, because he leans over and whispers, “We’re doing fine, Dean. We’re building a good desk.”

Dean doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he just throws himself into the work.

Jody and Donna finish first, and Dean and Cas watch the inspection process out the corner of their eyes while they rush to finish. They’re nearly done when the supervisor presents the women with their next clue, and then Jody and Donna wish everyone still working good luck and run out to tackle their next task.

“Guess we won’t have time to stop for lunch,” Dean says, tightening the final bolt.

“We’ll make a special trip to Ikea when we get home,” Cas replies, waving the supervisor over to look over their desk.

“Just as long as we don’t have to buy any more bookshelves for a while.”

“Or desks,” Cas replies.

“Or desks.”

The man walks all the way around it, tests each drawer and door and gives the whole thing a good shake. He pronounces the desk complete and then hands them their next clue. Dean grabs it, shouts _good luck_ to Benny and Andrea, and then runs outside to open the envelope.

“ **Take a train to Häggvik, then ride a tandem bicycle 2 miles along the marked path to receive your next clue. Warning: Roadblock ahead.** ”

They take a cab to the train station and are pleasantly surprised to discover it’s only about a twenty minute rail journey to their next destination. There’s no sign of Jody and Donna, nor any of the other teams when they arrive, and it has Dean worried.

“You don’t think the counting thing ended up being faster, do you?”

“There’s no way to know yet, Dean. It’s not worth worrying about.”

Sam and Jess show up just as the train is about to depart and Dean is thrilled to see them. They learn that Gabriel and Kali are some sort of counting geniuses and finished even before Sam and Jess did, but they also learn that Dean’s assessment of the counting task was spot on.

“They had us count 2,304 pots and pans and tiny little dolls,” Jess says, and it sounds like she’s in pain.

“While kneeling down on that weird lego floor,” Sam adds, rubbing his knees through his jeans.

“At least you get to work out the kinks on a nice relaxing bike ride,” Cas offers.

“Relaxing?” Jess says. “Have you ever ridden a tandem bike with gigantor, here?”

“Just once,” Dean replies, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, well, at least you guys didn’t burn the whole store down building your desk,” Sam says.

Dean just waves his hand in a _there you go_ kind of gesture.

At the train station, they find their bikes parked right out front labeled with directions to a nearby farm. Dean gives Kate the cameraperson a little glare as she hops on a fully motorized scooter with a built-in mount for her camera, and she just sticks her tongue out at him and waits for them to get moving before puttering along behind them. Sam and Jess take an early lead and Cas and Dean don’t even bother trying to keep up with their pace. It’s not worth exhausting themselves over when they know there’s at least two teams still behind them. They just try to enjoy the ride.

Their destination turns out to be a huge grassy field filled with giant rolls of hay, with the clue box out on the road by the gate. Dean parks their bicycle next to three others while Cas pulls out their next clue.

“ **ROADBLOCK: Who’s got hay fever?”**

“Shit,” Dean says. “I don’t have hay fever yet, but give me a few minutes out here and there’s no telling.”

“It’s technically my turn anyway,” Cas replies, and tears open the envelope.

At that moment, Jody and Donna come running out with their clue in hand, jump on their bike and start pedaling back toward the train station, calling out a good luck to them both again. Dean and Cas watch them for a few seconds and then Cas reads his instructions.

“ **One team member must unroll bales of hay and then search inside for your next clue.”**

Dean pulls Cas in for a good luck kiss and then watches him run off toward the field while he heads over toward where Kali and Jess are waiting in the shade of a few trees by the edge of the road.

“I’d rather milk a camel any day that do that,” Jess says, elbowing Dean.

Dean watches Cas push a roll of hay that’s practically taller than he is across the grass, kicking at the unrolling strip of hay beneath his feet so he won’t miss the clue envelope. “I can’t really argue with you there.”

Even Sam’s struggling with the task, but surprisingly it’s Gabriel who finishes first.

“Guess I’m just lucky,” he shouts to Kali while waving the clue above his head and running for the gate.

Cas and Sam glare at him for a moment and then exchange a calculating look and dive right back into their respective hay bales.

Cas has to stop and take a break after his third bale in order to pull itchy bits of hay out of his socks and catch his breath. He dashes over to his pack and pulls out a bottle of water, chugs half of it, and then runs back to start on his fourth bale. That’s about when Charlie and Gilda, as well as Benny and Andrea show up.

“Bumblebee, if you’re getting tired we can always use the express pass,” Dean shouts at his husband.

Cas just waves him off and keeps unrolling.

It’s not until Sam finds his clue and takes off with Jess that Dean makes his offer again.

“Don’t kill yourself, babe,” Dean says, between sneezing fits. He’s gratified that Benny’s sneezing too, and it seems to be slowing him down in his own search for a clue, but he can’t even imagine how miserable Cas must be feeling after more than an hour of this. It almost makes him long for the frigid confines of the Ice Bar. “We got the express pass for a reason, let’s just use it.”

Cas just stands there for a minute, his hands pressed against the huge hay roll, but not moving. His head’s bowed, and even from across the field Dean can see his shoulders slump.

“I’m amenable to that,” Cas says, and jogs over to the farmer to hand him their Express Pass.

Once he’s swapped it out for their next clue, Dean apologizes to Gilda and Andrea. They each give him a hug and he slumps off to catch up with Cas.

“I don’t really feel right about jumping ahead like that when our friends still have to muddle through that unforgiving task,” Cas says, and then gulps down the rest of his water.

His face is all pink and flushed from exertion under the afternoon sun and his eyes are puffy from wallowing in that much hay. Dean’s not looking too much better himself, though, and when he sees Cas up close, it relieves a lot of his reservations about taking the easier way out of this particular task.

“Yeah, but we’re both fucking miserable. We need a shower and some Benadryl, and I don’t want to get eliminated because we both got our asses kicked by a bunch of dead grass.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Cas says, and tears open their next clue.

“ **Ride your bikes back to the train station and take the train back to Stockholm. Find the next pit stop at the af Chapman. Warning, the last team to arrive may be eliminated.** ”

“What’s the af Chapman?” Dean asks while they’re pedaling with twice the effort they’d expended on their first ride.

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” Cas replies.

They buy their return tickets and have a few minutes to wait for their train, so Cas picks up a tourist guide to Stockholm while they wait and looks up their destination on the short ride back into the city. They race from the train, hop in a taxi, and less than ten minutes later find themselves running up the gangplank of an enormous old ship, the af Chapman. Bela is waiting for them at the top of the ramp, standing with a woman wearing a beautiful blue and yellow dress and a funny little white hat that has Dean biting back a flying nun joke.

“Hallå, and welcome to Stockholm, Sweden,” the woman says.

Cas and Dean greet her, and then turn to Bela to hear the expected news.

“Cas, Dean. You’re team number,” she draws it out to add suspense for the tv audience, Dean supposes, and then hits them with it. “Four. You’re still in the race, but you’ve fallen so far on this leg. What happened?”

“Hay happened,” Cas replies, glaring at her with puffy eyes.

Dean slings one arm protectively around Cas and is about ready to hiss at Bela when she speaks again.

“Well you’ll be relieved to hear that there’s no hay here in Stockholm, and you’ve got a full twelve hours to regroup before the next leg begins.”

With that, they’re dismissed from the mat and Kate hands them their pit stop instruction packet.

“Just be glad they’re not making you sleep on the boat,” she says, giving them a confidential little smile. “The crew’s stuck here for the next twelve hours.”

She waves them off and they head to the hotel indicated in their packet, just a few blocks away from the ship. It’s barely 5:30 when they arrive in their room, but they’re both exhausted and sore and itchy and starving. Dean calls down and orders room service, which they devour the second it arrives before dragging themselves off to the shower.

“I’m almost too tired to even enjoy this,” Dean laments, resting his forehead against his folded arms on the cool tile wall while Cas scrubs down his back.

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Cas replies, and then hands Dean the soapy cloth and turns around so Dean can wash his back.

Needless to say, once they’ve scrubbed away every last trace of hay, they both end up enjoying themselves before passing out cold, cuddled together in their big fluffy bed they didn’t have to put together themselves, long before the sun sets over Stockholm.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein sibling rivalry vies with incredible good luck (well, good luck from _some_ people’s perspective) for the exclusive right to be Dean and Cas’s new arch-nemesis.

Cas wakes in the dark and discovers that what he’d thought was a very good dream is actually blessedly real. Dean is draped over his back, one arm around his chest with his hand over Cas’s heart, and nuzzling ticklishly into the back of his neck. Cas blinks his eyes open, zeroes in on the glowing blue numbers on the clock on the bedside table, and groans.

“Mornin’, Bumblebee,” Dean says, and then returns to kissing his way down the side of Cas’s neck.

Cas squeezes his eyes closed and sighs. “Bumblebees are still sleeping at 1:47 am, Dean. We don’t wake up until the flowers do.”

Dean pauses his kisses and levers himself up so he can look down at Cas’s face in the dim light from the clock. Cas shivers a little when his human blanket peels himself off his back leaving a cool draft in his wake. He half-heartedly tries to pull Dean back down, tugging on his arm, but eventually gives up and rolls his head far enough to see Dean smiling down at him.

“Mornin’ Bumblebee.”

“You already said that.”

“Yeah, and I got stung for it last time, so I figured I’d try for honey this time.”

That finally gets Cas to crack a smile. He rolls all the way over so he can reach up and pull Dean down by the neck into a warm good morning kiss. Dean lets himself relax against his husband and their kiss grows into something much more when Cas locks one leg around Dean’s thigh to keep his human blanket from moving away again.

“I’ve been missing my daily dose of naked you,” Dean says, rocking his hips down against Cas’s to prove his point.

“You had naked me in the shower about six hours ago.”

Dean groans and grinds against Cas again. “We need to make up for all the nights we lost sleeping on buses or planes or…”

Cas grins and reaches down between them, taking them both in hand and bringing the morning’s proceedings to a rushing climax.

They lie there for a few more minutes, Cas tracing patterns on Dean’s back, enjoying the weight of Dean’s body pressing him into the mattress and his warm breath against the side of his neck.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why are we up at two o’clock in the morning, Dean?”

Dean makes a very lazy attempt at a shrug and plants a kiss against Cas’s collarbone. “We slept long enough. I wanted to actually enjoy some of our downtime when we weren’t both passing out from exhaustion.”

“Hmmm. This was quite enjoyable.”

“Well, it’s not over yet. I think we need another shower now,” Dean says, pulling away just enough to point out the cooling mess between their stomachs.

They’re showered, dressed, and repacking their gear when Cas bothers to look at the clock again.

“We still have more than two hours before we’re scheduled to report to the mat again,” he says, zipping up his bag.

“Maybe there’s someplace nearby where we can get some breakfast.”

Cas just stares at him for a second.

“It’s three o’clock in the morning, Dean. I don’t think anything is going to be open yet.”

They’ve already brewed a pot of coffee in their room, so Dean takes advantage of Cas’s stash of granola bars again. It’s not a great breakfast, but it will tide them over for now. It just feels so much later than it is, because even though it’s barely after three in the morning, the sun is already starting to glow over the eastern horizon and the sky has lightened considerably by the time Cas throws the curtains open.

“Maybe we can wrangle a couple of bagels or something out of the front desk staff?” Dean suggests. “Or maybe some of the other teams are just as restless as we are and are already downstairs. Jody and Donna are probably almost ready to take off again.”

“We didn’t really get to talk to them last night,” Cas says, picking up his pack and slinging it over his shoulder. “It would be nice to catch up with everyone. We don’t even know who was eliminated.”

Dean frowns at that. “It was either Charlie and Gilda or Benny and Andrea. They were the only ones still unrolling hay bales when we left.”

Cas pulls Dean into a gentle hug and kisses his cheek. Dean’s heart is far too big for his chest, and sometimes it’s almost painful to see him so concerned for his friends. “We should go find out, then.”

By the time they make it to the lobby, every other team is already there, sitting together around a tray of pastries, a carafe of orange juice, and a pot of coffee. Jody and Donna are making the rounds saying their goodbyes before heading back to the af Chapman to get their next clue.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the sleeping beauties come to grace us with their presence,” Jody says, climbing over Sam’s backpack to wrap first Cas and then Dean in a hug. “We have to thank you again for yesterday. I’ve always wanted to take a cruise to Mexico.”

Dean grins at her. “That’s all on you. I didn’t win it for you.”

“No,” Jody says, smiling up at him. “But we wouldn’t have even been here in the first place if you hadn’t invited us.”

“Oh yeah,” Donna says, pulling him into a hug. “We’re having the time of our lives.”

“Yes, well, I owe you my life,” Cas replies, hugging Donna. “It seems more than a fair trade. I hope you enjoy your cruise in good health. You certainly deserve it.”

“Just doing our job,” Jody says. “We’ve got fifteen minutes to make it back to that boat. Sorry to break up the reunion, but we’ll probably be seeing all of you in a few hours at some airport or other anyway.”

They head out to a chorus of _take care_ , and _good luck_ , and Dean’s _don’t let them make you do anything I wouldn’t do_.

That’s when Cas finally has a chance to look around the rest of the assembled group and sees both Charlie and Benny. Sam’s the one who actually catches him staring and nudges him to get his attention.

“Non-elimination round,” Sam says, grinning up at him and offering him a cup of coffee.

Benny overhears him. “Yeah, me and Andrea got a reprieve this round. Just as well, because I was hurting by the time I found that clue. Hay fever ain’t no joke, brother.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t even rolling around in it like you were and it was killing me,” Dean says, settling on one of the sofas surrounding their impromptu buffet table.

Gabriel and Kali relate the story of their adventure counting tiny stuffed animals, and then Charlie recounts Cas and Dean’s badass ice bartending skills for everyone who didn’t get to witness it for themselves.

“Seriously, if you guys decide to run away from home, I think they’d hire you in a heartbeat,” she says.

“Or we could try to convince Ellen to refurbish the roadhouse,” Cas replies. “It would be the busiest bar in Lawrence all summer long.”

“I can’t even imagine what the air conditioning bill would look like every month, though,” Sam says, shuddering, either about the cost or at the memory of the sub-zero temperatures inside the ice bar. Probably both.

Gabriel and Kali are the next to leave, followed shortly thereafter by Sam and Jess. By the time Dean and Cas say their goodbyes just before five am, the sun’s shining so brightly it feels almost like midday outside. The short walk back to the af Chapman is just enough to get them back into a racing frame of mind after their long, lazy morning.

They’re met at the foot of the af Chapman’s gangplank by a small and overly-excitable cameraman who introduces himself as Stewie and then hands them their next clue. Dean side-eyes the disheveled little guy, who kind of looks like he spent the night in the alley out behind the hotel instead of actually on the boat with the rest of the crew, but whatever. They’ve got racing to do.

“ **Fly to St. Petersburg, Russia, and make your way to the Aurora to receive your next clue. Warning: Detour ahead.** ”

“Looks like we need to get a new tourist guidebook,” Dean says, running with Cas to hail a cab.

“My Russian is a little rusty,” Cas says, jumping into the cab, “But it’s likely better than anyone else’s. That should be a small advantage.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Cas,” Dean jokes, kissing his husband’s temple and then settling in beside him as the cab takes off for the airport. “You’re a small advantage.”

“I’m nearly as big as you are, Dean.” Cas glares at him, but the quirk of his lips betrays him. “And depending on the context, you might say I’m bigger.”

Dean sputters for a second and Cas laughs.

“I was referring to my feet, Dean, but I’ll take your reaction as a compliment.”

The flight to St. Petersburg turns out to be one of their shortest flights yet. Dean’s incredibly grateful for it. Sure, they’ve seen and done some amazing stuff over the last two weeks, but it’s nice to finally feel like they’re getting somewhere without having to spend an entire day in the process of getting there.

Sam and Jess are the only other team aboard their flight and a friendly round of insults begins in the air. It doesn’t let up once they touch down. It had started over Sam teasing Dean about sneezing at the hay field and resorting to the express pass to save himself, escalated to Dean grousing over Sam winning the first leg only because he followed them around all day instead of trying to read his own damn map, and then rapidly devolved into referencing every petty little argument they’ve ever apparently had since Sam was a baby and had once rubbed pureed carrots into Dean’s hair.

Not even Cas’s rising frustration with him, nor the conspiratorial and exasperated looks Dean catches him exchanging with Jess are enough to make him or Sam let it go completely. Cas and Jess force the brothers behave by physically separating them until they’re through customs, but Dean and Sam just won’t let their game of one-upmanship go until their respective teammates drag them apart to hail separate taxis to their first destination.

“The Aurora is a battleship they’ve turned into a museum,” Cas tersely translates from the tourist guidebook he picked up at the airport while Dean was busy needling his brother. “It’s apparently closed today, but I suppose they’ve made an exception for race purposes.”

“God, I hope so,” Dean replies, making a childish face at Sam as their cab passes his in traffic. “I do not want to spend the whole day hanging around on a dock somewhere. Or sleep on another fucking sidewalk tonight.”

Cas just pats his knee reassuringly but mechanically. He draws his hand back just as quickly and keeps looking out the front window, as if he knows exactly where they’re going and is ready to question their driver’s sense of direction at any moment. Either that or he’s just trying to ignore Dean until he lets his argument with his brother go.

The ship they arrive at a few minutes later is huge and ominous compared to the wooden, tall-masted af Chapman where their day had begun. The Aurora is a battleship in the modern sense of the word, even if it’s over a hundred years old; all imposing grey steel and bristling with cannons. She has three towering smokestacks in place of the af Chapman’s tall masts, and after a quick scan of the dock to be sure they weren’t blindly running past a route marker flag, Dean follows Cas up the ramp to the main deck to search for their clue.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Dean asks when they don’t find a clue box or any sign of a race flag right away.

“Since the name _Aurora_ is painted on the gangway, I’m going to go ahead and assume this is the Aurora, yes, Dean.”

Dean makes a face behind Cas’s back, hackles raising a bit at Cas’s snappish tone, and then adds a gruff, “Yeah, sorry I don’t read Russian.”

Cas turns around and faces him, blocking the way forward toward the bow of the ship. Dean nearly walks into him but then takes a subconscious step back. He’s just waiting for Cas to drop the hammer on him for acting like such a tool all morning. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, Dean thinks. He tries to gird himself for the blow and meets Cas’s eyes.

“No, Dean. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was uncalled for, and I apologize.”

His sincerity takes Dean aback and hits him like a bucket of ice water to the face. “I’m sorry too, Cas. I’ve been an ass since we landed. I’m pissed at Sam, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

Cas smiles and leans in for a kiss. “Well, the best revenge we can get against your brother is to kick his ass in the race today.”

Dean shakes his head and smiles. He and Sam might sometimes butt heads over stupid things, but Dean had let it drag them all down that morning, including Cas. And that was something he promised himself he’d never do. He and Cas are having too much fun to let anything so ridiculous come between them, especially when it has this kind of power to unite them. “Okay. Let’s get to it, then.”

They eventually find the clue at the bow of the ship and Dean lets Cas do the honors.

“ **DETOUR: Block Five Shots or Drink One Shot**.”

“You know if you leave it up to me, I’ll always choose the drinking challenge,” Dean says, wrapping an arm around Cas’s shoulders so they can both see the clue while they make their way back toward the gangway. As far as Dean’s concerned, it only adds to their fun when their cameraman has to walk carefully backward down the narrow walkway along the side of the ship to keep filming them while they discuss strategy.

“Even before ten am?” Cas grins up at him, quickly stuffing the clue into his jacket when they spot Sam and Jess running across the deck to the starboard side of the ship. When they’ve disappeared from sight, Cas pulls out the envelope again and reads the rest of their instructions. “In this case, I think I’m going to have to agree with you.”

“Lemme see that.” Dean pulls the clue out of Cas’s hands and reads it for himself.

“ **In Block Five Shots, travel by taxi to SKA Hockey Arena,** ” is all he needs to read before he’s in full agreement with Cas.

“Shit, it’ll take more time to get fully decked out in hockey goalie pads than it will to down one shot, let alone having a bunch of professional hockey players shoot chunks of frozen rubber at our heads. That does not sound like fun.”

“I agree, but we don’t just have to drink the shot,” Cas says, finally making it out to the street and hailing them another cab to the Anichkov Palace, the site of the other Detour option, while Dean continues reading.

“ **In Drink One Shot, travel by taxi to Anichkov Palace and participate in a Cossack ritual: balancing a shot of vodka on the blade of a saber, then drinking it without spilling a drop in order to receive your next clue.”**

“Dude,” Dean says, climbing into the cab after Cas gives directions to the driver. “We got this.”

Cas just shrugs and again pats his knee while staring out the window. This time, though, Dean grabs Cas’s hand and holds it. Dean can practically feel the tension melting out of Cas. He knows he’s forgiven for his grumpy morning when Cas sighs, closes his eyes, and rests his head on Dean’s shoulder. Yeah, everything’s good.

Their taxi drops them off right outside the Palace’s main entrance. They’re ushered through the front door by a man dressed in traditional Cossack fashion; with a long belted tunic, baggy red satin pants, and a big furry grey hat. From there it’s easy to follow the sound of music and cheering to a huge room full of people dancing. Dean and Cas freeze in the entryway for a second, marveling at the acrobatics of the dancers, and Dean’s knees are aching just watching them leap and crouch and spin across the floor.

“Shit, they’re not gonna make us do _that_ , are they?”

“I hope not,” Cas replies, and then he and Dean share a terrified glance before stepping into the room.

The dancers finish their routine a minute or two later and Dean and Cas clap politely. Yeah, the dancers were kicking ass and under normal circumstances they’d be whistling and cheering, but Dean and Cas are still a little too nervous about what exactly they’ve signed themselves up for to show any more enthusiasm than that.

Two of the dancers break away from the group, drawing long swords which they present hilt-first to Dean and Cas before bowing and backing away to take their places in the dance troupe. Two women then approach from each side of the room, filling a smallish glass with vodka for each of them, and then raising their swords at arms length in front of their faces while turning the flat of the blades into the world’s most impractical serving trays. They carefully rest the full glasses of vodka at the widest point of the blade and then step back to watch Cas and Dean attempt to drink.

Dean wants to look over at Cas so bad just to see how he’s doing with this challenge, but he’s terrified to take his eyes off the precariously balanced drink on the blade of his own sword. Extended out to the fullest reach of his arm, the blade is already beginning to waver a bit, so he slowly draws it closer to his face while simultaneously taking a small, very careful step forward, as if that will help him get the rim of the glass to his mouth quicker.

The room is absolutely silent and still and he can feel every eye in the place is on him and Cas. He’s not sure if they’re waiting to see him completely fail and spill vodka all over himself, or accidentally lop his own head off with the sword. When the glass is just a few inches from his face, his arm all squished awkwardly to angle the sword right to keep any of the liquid in the glass from sloshing over the rim, it looks a lot bigger than any shot glass he’s ever seen. It’s got to be at least a double or even a triple.

He takes one last deep breath before the rim of the glass reaches his lips, and then exhales as he struggles to swallow down that much vodka on an empty stomach before the glass can slide completely off the blade. Even as he finishes, he’s scared to move too quickly for fear he’ll distract Cas from his attempt to drink and they’ll both have to start over. Instead, he lets the glass drop off the blade and into his empty hand and then slowly turns to see Cas already staring back at him with a huge grin on his face and his empty glass raised in a toast.

“Na pososhok,” Cas says, swaying a little on his feet from downing several ounces of vodka in just a few seconds, at least eight hours after their last meal.

Dean wouldn’t have understood him even if he wasn’t slurring his words just a little bit, but he gathers his husband said something funny when chuckling breaks out among the dancers. He fumbles with the glass and sword to free up one of his hands, which he rests on Cas’s shoulder to balance him.

“You good there, Bumblebee?”

Cas just turns to the rest of the room and asks, “Did we earn our next clue?”

The music starts up again and three dancers approach, spinning wildly and kicking their legs out. If Dean’s reflexes had been better he’d have had the sword up in a defensive stance (hey, he practices with the Dead Guy sword at home once in a while. Sue him. He’s got reflexes), but in his current state he barely gets it back into his right hand before one of the men is taking both it and his empty glass from him while another disarms Cas, and the third man hands them their next clue.

Stewie the cameraman mutters something under his breath that Dean’s pretty sure was, “Shit, that was awesome,” and then Dean tears open the envelope.

“ **Proceed on foot to the Bronze Horseman and search for your next clue.** ”

Dean turns to Cas and is slightly concerned at how hard the vodka seems to have hit him. “You ready to run, babe?”

“I’m always ready to run,” Cas insists, but Dean knows better.

He spins Cas around, unzips the top of his backpack, and pulls out a granola bar. He makes sure to zip everything back up before spinning Cas back around, tearing open the bar and shoving it right up in Cas’s face.

“We can run as soon as you eat this.”

Cas just looks back and forth between the snack and Dean for a few seconds, his eyes slowly focusing between the two.

“Only if you eat half,” Cas replies, grabbing the bar and breaking it in two, then practically shoving the other half in Dean’s mouth.

“Deal.”

“That went right to my head,” Cas says, reaching into the side pocket of Dean’s pack to grab his water bottle. He washes down his snack and then hands the bottle back to Dean to do the same. “We should go now, though. Charlie and Gilda are here.”

Dean hadn’t even noticed them arrive, but they’ve nearly finished their drinking ritual and Dean doesn’t want to have to deal with Charlie and Gilda right on their heels all the way to the next route marker. He’s in no state to deal with both drunk Charlie and tipsy Cas right now, so he escorts Cas back out to the street in hopes that some passing pedestrian will be able to give him directions to this Bronze Horseman in English, because of course the tourist guide Cas picked up at the airport is entirely in Russian. Dean shoves the book into Cas’s hands and hopes for the best.

“Peter the Great,” Cas replies, sounding blessedly more sober than he had a few minutes ago, and opens the guidebook to a picture of a bronze dude sitting atop a bronze horse. He jabs his finger at the picture and holds it up for Dean to see. “Senatskaia Ploschad.”

“Can you repeat that to a local and get directions?”

Cas shakes his head. “It’s on the map.”

He points it out for Dean, and while the words don’t make sense, at least the layout of the streets does. Dean can follow that much, and he heads off toward the statue with Cas in tow.

“Shit, this is a long walk. I hope the teams that did the hockey thing have to walk this far. And they don’t even have to navigate it drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, Dean. Maybe a little. But not too much.”

“Yeah, same here, buddy.”

At least the weather is nice, mostly sunny and pleasantly cool. They only have to contend with crossing busy streets a couple of times as they make their way. Dean keeps checking over his shoulder, and is more than a little relieved that Charlie and Gilda haven’t caught up with them yet. Either that or they took a different route and have somehow reached the statue before them. Dean shakes that thought away. The longer they walk, the more they sober up, and by the time they reach Senatskaia Ploschad, they’re both essentially feeling normal again.

They arrive just in time to see Charlie and Gilda running off from the next clue box toward the river.

“Dammit, how’d they get ahead of us?” Dean asks. “I thought for sure Charlie would be falling down drunk after that shot.”

“We can catch up to them,” Cas says, and sprints off to fetch their next clue. He meets Dean and Stewie halfway between the box and the spot where they lost sight of Charlie and Gilda and they tear it open together.

“ **Travel on foot to find the burial site of Peter the Great and search for your next clue. Warning: Roadblock ahead.** ”

“Great, more walking,” Dean says.

Cas has his nose buried in their guidebook for a few moments and then says, “Running, Dean. It’s just across the river there.” He points out a stone-walled fortress barely visible in the distance and then takes off running. Dean takes off after him a second later.

“Hey,” Stewie shouts, but Dean and Cas are already half a block away.

They almost catch up to Charlie and Gilda by the time they finally reach the Peter and Paul Fortress on its own island in the Neva River, but they’re still a few steps behind. They find the race flag and their next clue on the bridge that takes them to the island, just as Charlie and Gilda run off toward a nearby park.

“ **Between the two of you, who is the real player?”** Cas reads out while Dean’s bent over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath and waiting for the cramp in his side to go away.

“I’d make an inappropriate joke here, but,” Dean says, standing up and waving a hand at himself.

“If you’re not up to the task, I can do it, Dean,” Cas says, infusing Dean’s name with all the concern he’s feeling. “You offered to take my place on the last roadblock. It’s the least I can do.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, taking a deep breath and blowing it out real slow. “And you did it anyway. It’s the least I can do now. It’s my turn.” He holds his hand out for the envelope and hopes he looks convincingly ready to take on a random challenge.

Cas eyes him up critically, and then nods once and hands over the envelope. Dean smiles, leans in for a quick kiss that Cas earned for trusting in him, and then tears it open.

“ **Find the green where a game of Gorodki is underway. Set up and then clear three pin formations in order to receive your next clue.** ”

“What the heck’s gorodki?” Dean asks, running off the the general direction Charlie and Gilda had gone. He glances over his shoulder to see Cas frantically looking through his guide book for any kind of helpful information but not having any luck. The next person Dean passes, he just frantically shouts, “Gorodki?” at them and hopes he sounds even remotely sane in doing so. The woman laughs at him and points back over her shoulder. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying, but he yells thanks at her and keeps running.

It’s not gorodki that gets his attention, but Charlie’s red hair and her enthusiastic cheering.

He slows his pace and checks to make sure Cas and Stewie are keeping up, and waves them both on as he runs off the sidewalk into a park set up with a row of marked courts where men and women are throwing wooden bats at piles of cylindrical pins. It seems suspiciously similar to the game of kubbs they had to play in Norway.

“What, does every country in Europe like to throw sticks at other sticks for fun?” he asks of no one in particular.

A man hands him a diagram of the first arrangement of sticks he needs to set up and then points to the marked square about fifteen feet away. Dean nods, letting the guy know he gets it. He runs the short distance, crouches down, and quickly constructs the formation exactly as it appears on his card.

He’s confused for a second, because if he’s reading the diagram right then half the pins are already lying down, and it doesn’t seem like much of a challenge to knock the rest over. He glances nervously back at Cas, but he gets the okay sign from the judge so he returns to the throwing line. He trades in the diagram card for what look like two small, skinny baseball bats, and the man who hands them over waves his arm in a throwing motion and then points at the pins.

Yeah, Dean has already figured that much out and is eyeing up the little square tower and testing the balance of the bats. Before he makes his first throw he notices Gilda working on knocking over her first group of pins, and that’s when he finally gets it. The object isn’t to knock them over, but to knock them all out of the square.

Gilda crouches a little to the side and throws her bat in a sweeping motion that takes out the standing pins but leaves the rest in place on the ground. Her second toss takes out one of the remaining pins but leaves two others within the marked off area, and she grudgingly trots back down to set them all up and try again.

Dean absently flips his bat end to end in his hand, then casts one glance back at Cas, standing on the sidewalk with Charlie and cheering him on.

“You can do it Dean!”

He gives one painfully cheerful smile to Cas, and then takes a deep breath, bends over, and steps forward while releasing his bat, sending it spinning along the ground toward the pins. Three of the five pins in the little formation go flying, while the remaining two just sort of wobble half-heartedly to opposite sides of the playing field but stubbornly refuse to roll across the lines.

“Shit,” he says, turning to yell back at Cas. “It’s like I got a 7-10 split on my first try.”

Cas laughs a little bit, but then Dean hears him call back, “Just think of it like bowling and pick up the spare.”

“Yeah, it’s like bowling for really angry people,” Dean mutters, but then yells back, “I can’t even pick up the spare with a bowling ball let alone with a baseball bat.”

While he’d been busy grumbling, Gilda managed to take out her reset pins and is already running back down the court to set up her second formation. Dean decides to stop grumbling and just take out his feelings on the pins instead. He whips the bat toward the pin on the right hoping the spin will kick it across to knock the pin on the left out as well. That’s how bowlers do it, he figures.

Miracle of miracles, it actually works. He hears Cas shouting excitedly behind him and he turns an astonished and impressed face back at his husband, pointing at what he’d done. The judge lets out a cheer and pats Dean heartily on the back while handing him the card with his next pin formation diagram on it. He knocks the second one out in a single throw and without further ado races to set up his final formation. Sam and Jess show up just as he’s throwing his final bat, and he only spares a second to stick out his tongue at his brother before claiming his prize from the judge.

Gilda throws her final bat just moments later, and Dean and Cas are only seconds ahead of her and Charlie reading their next clue.

“ **Travel on foot to the next Pit Stop: Naryshkin Bastion within the Peter and Paul Fortress. Warning: The last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

“Well, we know we’re not last,” Dean says, taking off running after Cas, who seems to know where he’s going. “You been studying your tourist map again, Cas?”

“For the most part,” Cas replies. “The map I have of the fortress isn’t that detailed, but there are two potential locations for something that could be termed a _bastion_.”

“So which one are we headed for?”

“Neither. We’re going to hope there are helpful and clear directional markers posted inside the fortress.”

“So we’re winging it,” Dean says, actually feeling pretty good about it, since Cas can read Russian and they’ve at least got a lead on Sam and Jess, and probably on Benny and Andrea, for that matter. He runs just a little faster to catch up with Cas and grabs his husband’s hand.

Cas grins up at him, and Dean waves his free hand out in front of them. “Eyes on the road, Bumblebee. You can smile at me when we find the place.”

Cas grins even wider and turns his attention back to looking for a sign.

The fortress is vast, like a small walled city, and not terribly crowded with potentially helpful tourists unless they’re willing to shout across open grassy areas to people off in the distance. With Charlie and Gilda already somewhere inside the walls with them, Cas doesn’t think it’s a good idea to give them any free help from random citizens pointing the way.

They come to a small pavilion with a map of the entire fortress printed on it, and Cas spends all of three seconds looking it over before he spots their destination and takes off running again. Dean wasn’t expecting him to be quite that quick about it, or to take off again without any warning other than the tug on Dean’s hand still clasped tightly in Cas’s. After being dragged along for a few steps he finally gets his feet under him and kicks it into gear.

They burst into the open courtyard of the Bastion only to see Charlie and Gilda already ascending the flight of stairs up to the top of the wall. Dean curses under his breath but doesn’t stop running. They almost manage to catch up, and round the corner of the small observation tower just as Charlie and Gilda step on to the mat.

He and Cas join them just a second later, and while Dean throws one arm over Cas’s shoulders and tries to catch his breath, he finally notices Bela standing there with a local woman in an elaborately embroidered red gown and a hat that makes her look a little like a golden peacock.

“Zdravstvuyte! Welcome to St. Petersburg, Russia,” the peacock lady says.

“Spasibo,” Cas replies, thanking her in Russian without even thinking twice. “Priyatno byt' zdes'.”

The woman smiles at him like he’s done an interesting trick and then Bela draws their attention back to the business at hand.

“That was a close race. Were you neck and neck all day?” She asks, leaving them in suspense about their finishing order to draw out the drama, Dean supposes.

Cas spares him from saying anything regrettable by speaking first. “We kept thinking we’d pulled ahead, only to find these two arriving everywhere just before us. It was a common theme of the day.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, shooting a confused glance at Charlie. “You two get a teleporter or something?”

Charlie just shrugs. “Gilda’s been here before. She knew a couple of shortcuts through town.”

“Well, that’s come in handy, hasn’t it?” Bela replies. “Because Charlie and Gilda, your shortcuts have made you team number three! Congratulations!”

While Charlie and Gilda are busy hugging and jumping around, Bela turns to Dean and Cas and continues, “And that makes you team number four. You two have slipped a little on these last few legs.”

Cas squints at Bela. “We’re still in the race, and that’s all that matters for today.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Bela replies. “For today. Rest up, because you have eighteen hours before the next leg begins.”

With that, she dismisses them, and Stewie hands them their pit stop information packet before setting off for his own extended break. The four of them head off toward the hotel where their gear bags are once again waiting for them.

“She makes it sound like we get those extra six hours to lounge around the pool or something,” Charlie says while they walk. “Last time we had extra down time, I spent most of my free time washing socks in the hotel room sink.”

“You know you can send your things to the hotel laundry,” Cas tells her.

Charlie’s eyes widen and she shares a startled look with Gilda, who just shrugs. “Really?”

“That’s what we’ve been doing,” Dean says. “Haven’t got shit from Bela for it yet, so I figure we’re in the clear.”

“I wonder if our hotel has a pool, then?”

Their hotel doesn’t have a pool, but it has a decent restaurant where everyone meets up a few hours later after they get their laundry sorted out and spend some time relaxing and freshening up. Cas and Dean are the last to arrive, because of course Dean managed to talk Cas into helping him test the water pressure in their room’s shower and it’s not his fault that they both found it to be excellent. It might be a little bit his fault that they spent as long as they did coming to that conclusion, but then again Cas was an eager participant, and they’re both incredibly satisfied with their results.

“Where’s Benny and Andrea?” Dean asks the group when he and Cas sit down at the table.

“We haven’t seen them,” Sam says. “I guess they got eliminated.”

“We were just speculating that they decided to hop a plane straight for Paris rather than hang out with us tonight,” Donna says. “I can’t really blame them.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

Cas gives Dean’s hand a squeeze and then picks up the menu in front of him.

“So which of you are today’s winners?”

Donna grins, holds up a hand above her head and points down to herself and Jody, while Jody says, “You’re looking at ‘em. We’re apparently going to some fancy spa in Malaysia.”

“Ooh, nice!” Charlie says.

“Oh ya. The concierge let me look it up on his computer, and it’s pretty incredible. They have like a dozen different kinds of mud you can get slathered in.”

“That sounds like fun,” Cas replies, glancing at Dean and looking slightly horrified.

Dean just laughs. “It’s supposed to be relaxing, I guess.”

“Haven’t you two won a spa trip yet?” Kali asks.

“Yeah, I think Castiel needs to experience the luxury of being submerged in designer mud,” Gabriel adds, pointing his finger like a gun and winking at his brother.

They spend the rest of the evening catching up on what prizes everyone’s won so far and sharing in some of the highs and lows of the last leg’s adventures.

Sam and Jess share just how awful it was fending off hockey pucks fired at them by professionals while Jody and Donna describe their first failed attempt at drinking shots off of sabers.

“I spent the rest of the day slightly damp and stinking like a distillery,” Donna says, laughing her way through the story.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jody replies.

“Easy for you to say, Jodio. You only spilled half your drink.”

“Yeah, but I’d already drunk the other half. I swear they filled that glass to the rim for my second try just to spite me. I think I was just a little too sloshed to notice or care what we smelled like.”

Donna snorts at that. “If we hadn’t gotten it down on the second try, we would’ve had to switch tasks before you gave yourself alcohol poisoning. That was a stiff drink.”

“Russian vodka’s not kidding around,” Dean agrees.

“Well, I think that does it for us for the night,” Jess says eventually, taking Sam by the hand and standing up. “And we’re in last place now, so I know the rest of you have to be up and at ‘em before us tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we’ve gotta be up and out of here just after seven am,” Donna says, checking her watch. “We still got time to get our full eight hours.”

“Well, good luck to everyone tomorrow,” Gilda says, and then they all make their way back to their rooms to wait out the clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick word on "Na pososhok," Cas's Russian toast. I know explaining jokes makes them unfunny, but eh... It's similar to the English phrase "One for the road," but is also a signal to one's host that you've reached your limit and are "bowing out" of another round of toasts, which in Russia is akin to admitting defeat. Cas said it after a single (admittedly large) drink and was already swaying on his feet.  
> Priyatno byt' zdes' loosely translates as "Nice to be here."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, rats.

Dean had set their alarm for seven am, since that’s when the hotel promised their clean laundry would be delivered. When 7:15 comes and goes without so much as a knock on their door, Cas calls down to the front desk to make sure their clothes weren’t misplaced overnight. They didn’t have much they’d needed cleaned-- just a few pairs of jeans, socks, underwear, and t-shirts-- but it’s stuff they really can’t afford to leave behind, either. The race has been hard on their clothes and it’s not like they have time to go shopping for new stuff.

The desk attendant apologizes profusely and Cas accepts her word that she’ll check on it personally before hanging up. He turns back to Dean and their half-packed bags with a grim look on his face.

“I take it that wasn’t good news?” Dean asks. He’s decided he loves listening to Cas speak Russian even if he has no idea what he’s saying. But his tone during this particular conversation was clearly one of exasperation.

Cas shakes his head. “I told her that we’re checking out at 8:30 and that we must have our clothes back by then, no matter what state they’re in. Clean, dirty, soapy and wet. It doesn’t matter.”

“And?”

“And she’s going down to the laundry to find them personally.”

“I thought we didn’t have to be outside until 9:17?” Dean asks.

Cas shrugs. “I’d rather start the race with all our clothes packed properly than have to run out to meet our new cameraperson with a wad of wet laundry clutched in my hand.”

Their phone rings a few minutes later and Cas answers in Russian hoping it’s the front desk attendant with an update on their laundry status, but instead he ends up with an earful of a rather distraught and frantic Charlie.

“You guys swore the laundry thing was kosher,” Charlie says, loud enough not only for Cas to yank the receiver away from his ear to spare his eardrums, but for Dean to hear her clearly from three feet away. “We sent half our stuff down yesterday, and the lady I talked to barely speaks English. I don’t think she understood our dilemma, and since I personally blame Dean for this, I need to borrow you for a few minutes to translate for me.”

“Whoa, whoa, Charlie,” Dean says, taking the phone from a terrified-looking Cas. “You can borrow Cas if you promise to stop yelling.”

Dean winks at him and Cas can’t help but laugh.

“We’re still waiting on our laundry, too, and Cas already talked to someone about it. I’ll have him call back down and add your stuff to their rush order. Just breathe, Charles. We’ll fix this.”

“Okay, Dean. Thanks. And, uh… sorry for any eardrum trauma I might’ve caused.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get back to you after Cas finds your missing clothes.”

Cas picks their room key up off the dresser and heads toward the door. “I think I’ll just go down there and deliver the message in person.”

Dean looks around at their mostly-packed bags, realizing there’s absolutely nothing for him to do alone in their room for however long it takes Cas to sort this mess out, and shrugs. “I’ll come with.”

On their way to the elevator, Cas says, “You didn’t have to come, Dean. I could’ve handled this.”

“While I sit there staring at the wall for half an hour? No thanks.”

A wicked smile crosses Cas’s face just as the elevator arrives. “You could’ve turned on the television. I noticed you seem... enamored with the local language.”

Dean doesn’t even bother trying to make an excuse. Instead, he pulls Cas into a loose hug and pushes the button for the lobby. “I like it when _you_ talk.”

“Is that so?” Cas replies, and then switches to Russian. He’s about exhausted his entire limited conversational vocabulary when the doors slide open and he practically has to pry Dean off of himself so they can walk out into the lobby.

“See,” Dean says, pulling himself together. “It was worth coming with you just for that elevator ride.”

Within fifteen minutes, they’re headed back up to their room with Charlie and Gilda’s eternal gratitude. At least, that’s what Gilda said while delightedly watching Charlie dance around the room hugging her freshly laundered Lumberjanes t-shirt.

They’ve got enough time to kill for Dean to read through their pit stop information packet again, and repack his bag twice to accommodate small wardrobe changes according to the vague descriptions of the kind of clothing they’ll potentially need for the next few legs before Cas tells him enough and pulls him bodily out of their room. He begrudgingly let Cas shove most of his flannels into their gear bags since they were told to expect hot weather, and he already feels naked just knowing he has to leave them behind. Dean stares longingly at the two huge duffels they won’t see again for at least half a week and hopes he has everything they’ll need between now and that nebulous, uncertain future.

They find Charlie and Gilda also already waiting on the sidewalk outside the hotel, finishing off the last of their morning coffee and staring over at the group of cameramen waiting just a little ways down the street.

“Wonder which one we’ll get today,” Charlie asks, sizing up the the group.

Dean recognizes Frank from their second leg in Peru and the young woman, Kate, from their Ikea Fiasco leg. “Well I can narrow it down for you.”

It’s Kate who eventually comes over to shake hands with Charlie and Gilda, while the as-yet-unnamed cameraman heads for Dean and Cas. He cheerfully introduces himself as Rick, gives them a huge dopey grin, and then hands them their first clue.

“ **Fly to Delhi, India. Drive yourselves to the Taj Mahal and search the grounds for your next clue.”**

“Well, I’m sure that won’t be a difficult task,” Cas says, sighing wearily and holding out his hand to hail a taxi.

They’re reunited with Charlie, Gilda, Sam, and Jess at the St. Petersburg airport, and then with Jody, Donna, Kali, and Gabriel when they change planes in Moscow. By the time they all finally land in New Delhi, it’s well past nine pm. They all race through customs, but Cas holds Dean back just long enough to find a good road map of India before following the rest of the teams out to the parking lot in search of their marked cars.

“I seriously have to drive this thing?” Dean asks, standing beside the ridiculously tiny car. He starts to get in the driver's side, and then remembers it's around the other side of the car. "Bad enough I gotta remember to drive on the wrong side of the road, I gotta do it in a fucking clown car, too."

“Be grateful I’m not forcing you to sit in the back seat,” Cas replies, cramming himself diagonally across the small seat and squeezing his legs alongside their backpacks.

“Shit, Cas, are you gonna be okay back there?”

“I’ll survive. It should only be a three and a half hour drive.”

“Let me know if you can’t take it anymore and we’ll switch,” Dean offers magnanimously, before promising himself to drive as fast as fucking possible so Cas won’t have to suffer long.

“I know that look, Dean,” Cas says, squinting at him in the rear view mirror while Dean backs out of their parking spot. “Don’t break any laws. I’d rather be squished than have to bail you out of an Indian jail.”

“Yeah, well…”

“The Taj Mahal doesn’t even open until sunrise,” Cas says, holding up and pointing at the tourism guide even though Dean can’t see it. “Speeding won’t improve our position over the other teams.”

“Fine,” Dean eventually relents. “Just try to get some rest back there so at least one of us will have two functioning brain cells to rub together tomorrow.”

Cas pats Dean’s shoulder and then does his best to get comfortable for the long drive.

It’s nearly 1:30 in the morning by the time Cas directs Dean into the parking lot outside the Western Gate to the Taj Mahal, giving them nearly four hours to kill before the grounds open to the public. Gabriel and Kali are already there, standing beside their own miniature car debating on how best to spend the rest of the night.

“I am not going to sleep in that thing,” Kali says, pointing at the car.

“Then we’re probably not gonna be sleeping at all,” Gabriel argues, waving a hand around at the otherwise empty parking lot and the adjacent lawn. “Unless you feel like camping out.”

“I wouldn’t mind camping out,” Dean says, turning to Cas. “It’s a nice night.”

Cas shrugs and then digs through his bag for their tiny travel alarm clock. They lock up their car with their bags inside and head off toward the gate to find a comfortable place to sit and wait out the night.

When their alarm rings at five am, they find they’ve got some additional company on the little bench they’d settled down on. Dean’s squished right up against Cas, which is about how he usually expects to wake up, but Sam’s slumped over against Dean’s other shoulder, and Jess is fast asleep on Sam.

“This is highly uncomfortable,” Cas says, and then wriggles his way out from the beneath Dean, causing a chain reaction collapse that startles Sam and Jess awake.

There’s sadly nowhere to get a decent breakfast nearby, so Dean settles for yet another of Cas’s magical granola bars. He might be getting sick of them, but they’re substantially better than the alternative.

Cas does a few stretches and then walks around the small grassy area in front of their bench shaking out the stiffness from his arms and legs. Dean debates whether or not to join him, but finds he’s content just enjoying the view. He knows he’s got a goofy little smile on his face when Jess leans across Sam to nudge his shoulder.

“Have I ever told you that the two of you are a couple of disgusting saps?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear. “Because you are.”

“Yeah? Well you two are…” he leans back to take in the entire picture of Sam sprawled out and taking up half the bench with Jess practically climbing over him to get right up in Dean’s face. “You’re… sappy.”

Jess snorts and shakes her head.

Dean tries to scowl at her, but he just can’t do it and has to settle for getting up and stomping off toward Cas in a mock huff. He pulls a somewhat startled and bemused Cas into a hug and reminds his husband he loves him for no particular reason. Yeah, he knows he’s a hopeless sap, and he doesn’t really care who knows it. Mostly.

He spots Charlie and Gilda a little way down the sidewalk sharing their morning snack with Jody and Donna. Gabriel and Kali are just making their way across the lawn from the parking lot when he reaches Cas. All five teams begin to slowly converge on the gate as sunrise approaches. The guard who comes to unlock the gate for them just gives them a knowing look and then stands back and lets them all in; the slowest and most respectful stampede in history. It is a mausoleum, after all.

The grounds are huge and the route marker could be practically anywhere within the expansive gardens. Once inside the gates they all split up, choosing different directions instinctively. Dean lets Cas take the lead and they head straight through the gardens toward the river and the instantly recognizable monument. Kali and Gabe seem to have taken a similar tack and they pace Dean and Cas’s speed while walking along an adjacent path. They split off and circumnavigate the enormous mausoleum in opposite directions, arriving at the clue box behind the building at nearly the same moment.

“Wish we could slow down and enjoy this a little more,” Dean says, glancing up at the bright white minarets glowing with the rising sun and around the peaceful garden while Cas tears open the envelope.

Cas leans his head against Dean’s shoulder and sighs. “We seem to say that everywhere we go.”

“ **Drive to the Agra Fort Railway Station and take a train to the Palace of the Winds, where you’ll find your next clue. Warning: Detour ahead.** ”

“You know where that is, Cas?” Dean asks, hurrying as slowly and respectfully and also as covertly as possible after Gabe and Kali.

“I’ll look it up on the way to the station. At least that can’t be too far of a drive, since we’re already in Agra.”

The ride to the train station takes less than twenty minutes, even in the beginnings of the morning rush hour. It was more than enough time for Cas to identify their destination as Jaipur, and also to determine the best way to get to the Palace from the Jaipur train station. All three of them, Rick the cameraman included, bid a fond good riddance to their toy car in the Agra train station’s parking lot and then spend the next forty minutes waiting on the platform for their train and feeling just a little bit guilty for hoping at least a few of the teams won’t make it to the station in time.

It’s a bizarre kind of relief when all five teams do make the train, even if it means they’ll have to race from the station to find a cab in the middle of the morning. Luckily there’s a line of waiting cabs outside the station in Jaipur in anticipation of a trainload of passengers suddenly in need of a taxi, and they’re all off again into the teeming city.

“God this is gross,” Dean says, peeling out of the flannel he'd insisted on wearing despite the heat and tying it around his waist. “It’s gotta be a hundred degrees out. If we have to run anywhere today I think I might die.”

Cas just hands him a water bottle and keeps careful watch out the front window of the cab for their destination. “You won’t die, Dean. I won’t let you.”

Dean tries to hand the water back to Cas, but Cas waves him off and points at a massive orangey-pinkish building that on first sight Dean thinks looks like some sort of elaborate sand castle. The facade is made up entirely of ornately decorated windows curving out from the building, as if the entire structure is made up of a long row of towering, interconnected hollow columns.

“Whoa,” Dean says, staring up at the building as they approach and the details come into focus.

“Please, can you wait here?” Cas asks their cab driver, who agrees.

He pulls Dean from the car and they take off across the crowded sidewalk in front of the palace. They have to dodge several street vendors, but eventually spot the clue box being tended by a man in a turban who bows to them when they grab their next clue and Dean tears it open.

“Hey, there go Gabriel and Kali,” Cas says, pointing them out in the crowd. Dean refuses to waste time searching for them in the sea of people. Instead he focuses on their next destination.

“ **Detour: Elephant or Rowboat?** ”

“Shit, I’m tempted to pick rowboat just on the off chance it sinks,” Dean says, grabbing Cas and trying to make their way across the crowded courtyard back to their waiting cab. “Maybe getting soaked will make the heat less oppressive.”

Cas makes a noise of assent and plucks the clue from Dean’s hands to read the rest of their instructions.

“It is the task that fits our challenge rules most closely,” Cas says. “No animals, and always choose the task that relies most on our own abilities rather than unreliable outside factors. I think elephants would likely fall under the category of _unreliable outside factors_.”

“It says we’d have to ride the elephant up a mountain to find a holy man,” Dean says, tapping the paper in Cas’s hands as he climbs back into their cab.”

“Fine. Agreed, then.” Cas gives directions to the cab driver to take them to Jal Mahal, where they’ll have to row a boat across a lake to find a different holy man, but at least their success or failure rests entirely on their own shoulders and not on the back of a three ton elephant with a mind of its own.

Twenty minutes later when they pull up to the route marker flag pointing the way to their chosen detour, there’s not another team in sight.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Where is everyone?”

“They likely chose the other detour, Dean,” Cas says, paying their driver and thanking him with a friendly wave.

The wheels grind to a halt in Dean’s head and suddenly he wonders if they’ve somehow chosen the wrong task. Maybe this one isn’t as straightforward as he’d been trying to convince himself from the few lines of instruction on their clue sheet.

Cas notices his husband’s unease and does what he can to make him stop worrying. “We can’t concern ourselves with everyone else. All we can do is the best we can do.”

They hurry down to the edge of the water and see the squat, sand-colored palace seemingly half sunk in the center of a huge lake. Down at the shore, Dean spots a man standing guard over half a dozen rowboats, each decked out with a little red and yellow race flag. Dean flings his backpack into the center of the first boat and then impatiently waits for Cas to do the same while Rick gingerly settles himself down on the other bench seat. He pushes the boat into the water, and in less than a minute he and Cas are each working an oar in perfect rhythm, gliding backward across the expansive lake toward the palace.

“I was wrong,” Dean says, sweating buckets and turning redder and redder under the blazing sun. “I don’t want the boat to sink. The water’s not any cooler than the air is.”

Cas takes one second to peer over his shoulder as they rapidly approach the building. “I think I’ve spotted our holy man,” he says, letting Dean take two additional strokes to turn them broadside to the landing dock at the palace where the man awaits them.

The man bestows a strange little blessing on them with a few hand gestures and then sprinkles them with water before handing the clue down to Dean. The holy man waves them off and Dean bows his head awkwardly, and then he and Cas are turning around and rowing with everything they have back to shore.

As soon as the bow of their boat touches land, Dean jumps ashore to haul it up on the small beach and helps Cas grab their gear. Rick barely has his camera up and filming again before Dean is tearing open the envelope and reading their next clue.

“ **Take the train from Jaipur to Deshnok, and find your next clue at the Karni Mata Temple. Warning: Roadblock ahead.”**

“Come on, Cas. Time’s a wastin’,” Dean shouts over his shoulder when he realizes Cas is still standing back by their boat while he’s run ahead to look for a taxi.

It gets Cas moving, but he still looks a little rigid and a hell of a lot pastier than he should. Dean flags down a cab, tells the driver to haul ass to the train station, and then turns to figure out what’s got Cas so freaked out.

“Talk to me,” he says, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle and handing it over to Cas.

“I’ve seen the Temple of Karni Mata on a documentary,” Cas says after a few fortifying gulps of water. “It’s dedicated to rats.”

“Oh, ew,” Dean says, but he still doesn’t get why this has Cas so stressed out. His husband loves animals almost universally, and he’s never said anything about being afraid of rats. Even some temple with ROUS-sized rat sculptures shouldn’t leave Cas trembling. He doesn’t push, though. Cas will get it out in his own time.

“There’s _thousands_ of them, Dean. And we’re headed to a roadblock. And it’s my turn.”

Dean thinks about this for a few seconds and watches Cas stare at the seat back in front of him, slowly sipping the rest of his water. “Do you want me to do this one?”

Cas turns slowly in his seat and Dean can see the confusion all over his face. He then watches Cas’s eyes go wide and earnest.

“Oh! No, Dean. It’s just the rats are sacred to the people who worship at the temple, and I’m worried that whatever we’ll be asked to do will upset the rats, or the people who’ve devoted their lives to their care.”

He really shouldn’t laugh. He really doesn’t want to laugh, so Dean bites his lip and takes a few shallow breaths hoping to get the urge under control before he opens his mouth. Cas can be too adorable for his own good sometimes, but this is exactly why Dean adores him.

“Cas. Bumblebee. Just… have we been asked to do anything disrespectful yet?”

Dean thinks back over their entire trip so far, and he doesn’t _think_ they’ve been assigned any tasks that could be viewed as hurtful, but he knows he’s not as sensitive to these sorts of things as Cas is, and he trusts his husband’s judgment on this.

“Well, no. Though the Taj Mahal could’ve turned disrespectful if we’d all just run through the grounds like maniacs.”

“But we didn’t,” Dean says softly, letting himself smile a little.

“No.”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say they wouldn’t ask us to do anything to hurt innocent animals, or disrespect the local religious temple.”

At this point, Rick the cameraman switches off his camera, turns around from where he’s sitting in the front seat with the cab driver, and completely shatters the race rules.

“I know I’m not supposed to give you guys any hints that might give you an advantage on the race, but I wouldn’t abide cruelty to any animal, so I know exactly how you’re feeling right now, Cas.”

“Thank you, Rick,” Cas says, once he gets over his surprise. It’s quite possibly the longest sentence they’ve heard out of any of their cameramen throughout the race so far.

“Yeah, the rest of the crew calls me Ranger Rick, because I’ve actually stopped filming to help injured animals in the past. We really do take this seriously when we plan the tasks. I know I definitely should not be telling you this, but if it puts your mind at ease, the only camera crews that will be inside the temple itself are locals who worship there and have the safety and best interests of the animals in mind.”

“Oh!” Cas says, putting all of this information together, and realizing he’s just gotten a huge spoiler about the next roadblock. He’s too smart to say anything directly to Rick about it and instead just winks at the man. “I see. That puts my mind at ease. Thank you.”

When Cas turns back to Dean, he’s grinning from ear to ear. Dean doesn’t exactly know what’s happened, or why Rick’s vague assurances have turned Cas’s mood around, but as long as Cas is happy, he’s happy. He throws his arm around Cas’s shoulders and pulls him in against his side. Sure they’re almost to the train station, but any minute spent not holding on to Cas when he’s in such a good mood is a moment wasted.

They arrive at the station just in time to board the next train to Deshnok, and even amid the crowd aboard the train, they eventually manage to find Gabriel and Kali, and then Jody and Donna. Dean’s a little upset to learn that Sam and Jess and Charlie and Gilda were still waiting their turn to ride the elephants at the other detour when Jody and Donna left, and there was no way any of them made this train.

“Hey, we know we’ve got at least an hour head start, right?” Gabe says.

Kali gently smacks his knee and glares at him. “That’s not very sensitive, Gabriel.”

“Are you still upset because I tried to make our elephant go faster? I already apologized for that, to you and to Shanthi.”

“She may have forgiven you, but she doesn’t know you like I do,” Kali says, rolling her eyes but giving in to Gabriel’s pleading look.

“Gabriel might be insensitive sometimes, but he’d never knowingly harm an animal,” Cas says, surprising Dean by defending his brother, even in that sort of backhanded way.

“Oh yeah, those elephants were treated better than the people,” Donna adds. “I don’t think they’d take any crap from the likes of us.”

The train ride is long and relatively uncomfortable. The high temperature for the afternoon is well over a hundred, and when the sun finally sets it doesn’t get appreciably cooler. Even the train’s open windows only serve to expose them to the hot, muggy air more insistently. The meager relief of the wind on their faces is far outstripped by the feeling that said wind feels more like warm soup than air.

When the train rolls into the station about a half an hour later, they’re all relieved to see the temple from the train platform. At least they don’t have another long slog ahead of them. They do, however, have to dodge their way around a few cows randomly wandering the streets.

They find the next route marker and clue box on the front steps of the temple. Dean stands aside to let Cas take on this roadblock.

“ **The person who performs this task may want to put on an extra pair of socks,** ” Cas reads, rolling his eyes as he tears open the inner envelope with his instructions inside.

“ **One team member must remove their shoes and enter the Karni Mata temple to search for a clay pot containing your next clue. Warning: No harm may come to any of the temple’s inhabitants during your search.** ”

Cas immediately drops to the ground to remove his shoes and socks and roll up the cuffs of his jeans, and then is escorted inside by his temporary cameraman, who Dean notices is also barefoot. He shudders at the thought of what Cas is stepping on with his bare feet and is unspeakably grateful that Cas hadn’t taken him up on his offer to do this particular task.

Inside the temple, Cas, Kali, and Donna each slowly head off in a different direction, stepping carefully through the veritable sea of rats covering the ground. There are bowls of milk and other foods set out for the animals, and altars set up around the temple decorated with all sorts of colorful offerings to the goddess. It makes it difficult to spot the tiny race flag pinned to a clay pot sitting on one one of those altars, but Cas isn’t ashamed to admit that he only found it because he saw Kali reach in and pull out a clue first.

Envelope in hand, he carefully makes his way back out and finds Kali and Gabe already running back to the train station. He hands the clue to Dean to read while he does his best to clean off his feet before pulling his socks and boots back on.

“ **Make your way to the Pit Stop mat at Laxmi Niwas Palace in Bikaner. Warning, the last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

“Well, I guess we need to follow Gabriel and Kali back to the train station,” Cas says, picking up his backpack.

“God I hope it’s not far. I am so done racing for today.”

While waiting at the station, they see Sam, Jess, Charlie, and Gilda arrive, and then board the train they’ve all just left for the half hour ride to Bikaner. Once in the city, they race for cabs, and Dean and Cas are both relieved and nervous to learn that it’s only about a ten minute drive to the palace, especially after they see Kali and Gabriel zoom past them in traffic.

Their driver pulls into a long driveway and up to the front of a gorgeous palace. Even in the dark, Dean can tell it’s a classy establishment.

“Damn, I hope we actually get to stay here tonight, and I don’t think I’d say that about many of our pit stop locations so far.”

“I wouldn’t be disappointed with that,” Cas agrees while paying the driver.

They make their way through the lobby of the hotel, because that’s what it is, Dean discovers. Just through the main building is a walled courtyard garden where they spot Gabriel and Kali just stepping on to the mat in front of Bela and another woman dressed in a red and gold sari.

“Dean, Cas, step right up,” Bela calls out. “How nice of you to join us!”

As soon as they reach the mat, the woman beside Bela smiles and says, “Namaste. Welcome to Bikaner, India.”

“Gabriel and Kali, you are the first team to arrive, which makes Dean and Cas team number two,” Bela says, and then turns back to Gabe and Kali. “As the winners of this leg of the race, you’ve won a trip to beautiful Fiji. But before you celebrate your win I have some other very important news for all of you.”

Dean groans when he hears about the trip they missed out on by mere seconds and Cas gives his hand a squeeze. They’ve already won some pretty decent prizes, and Cas is happy that his brother was able to win something, too.

“The most exciting bit of news is that this leg is only half over.” Bela pulls out two yellow race envelopes from behind her back and hands one to each of them. “You’re all still racing.”

Dean just stares at Bela in shock, so Cas has to take their next envelope. He tears it open right there on the mat and reads it out.

“ **Take the train to New Delhi and fly to Bangkok, Thailand. Head to the Mo Chit Bus Terminal and search for your next clue.”**

“Come on, Dean,” Cas says, tugging at his hand. “Donna and Jody are here and we need to leave now.”

Dean forgets about his aching feet and runs after Cas to find a cab back to the train station.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein everyone is tired. And hot. But not in the good way.

There are two types of trains that leave Bikaner for Delhi: the express that takes about eight hours and the the regular train that takes nearly fourteen hours. Since that makes it well worth everyone’s time to hang around the Bikaner station for an hour or two to wait for the express, it gives every last team a chance to catch up again. When Charlie and Gilda run huffing onto the platform just as they’re all about to board their train, Dean can’t help but pull them both into a relieved hug.

“You didn’t think you could get rid of us that easy, did you Dean?” Charlie asks.

“Shut up,” he replies, taking a step back and grinning at her.

“Yeah, I know you couldn’t keep racing without me.”

The train’s sleeper car berth might not be a cushy private room in a royal palace-turned-ritzy hotel like they’d been hoping when they’d pulled up to the last pit stop, but Dean finds he doesn’t much care so long as he’s got Cas’s shoulder to fall asleep on. They spend most of the eight hour train ride contentedly squished together in a single bunk. They’re slightly less content when they wake up shortly before their scheduled stop and have to untangle themselves and work the stiffness out of every muscle and joint, but from the way they’re looking at each other, they both know the soreness was worth it.

Within a half hour of arriving at the airport, all five teams converge on the same gate and board the same flight to Bangkok. They land in Thailand, and of course Cas makes nice with a local couple while they’re waiting to get through customs. His new friends are more than happy to map out the fastest route to the bus station, which Dean’s surprised to learn is via the subway and not by cab. So much for actually seeing much of Bangkok, then.

He feels much better about their decision when they arrive at the Mo Chit bus station and pull the very first clue out of the box outside the main entrance to the station. Dean lets Cas do the honors of ripping open the envelope since it was his insider tip to ride the subway that landed them back in first place for the first time in what feels like forever.

“ **Take a bus to Lopburi and then make your way to Prang Sam Yot to find your next clue. Warning: Roadblock ahead.”**

“What Sam’s Yacht?” Dean asks, as Castiel notices Charlie and Gilda frantically piling out of a cab, looking slightly shell shocked and frazzled.

Cas tugs him by the hand into the terminal to buy their tickets and waits until he’s paid their fare before explaining to Dean that they’re headed to a Buddhist temple and not a luxury watercraft. The bus is just about to leave when not only Charlie and Gilda, but also Sam and Jess slump aboard and all but collapse in relief.

“That must’ve been some cab ride,” Dean says, taking in the haunted look in Charlie’s eyes.

“How did you guys get here before us without, you know, dying?” Sam asks, turning in his seat to glare at Dean.

Dean just grins and waves one hand at Cas, settling more comfortably into his seat and pulling Cas close against his side.

It’s Cas who reveals their secret. “We took the subway.”

“They have a subway?” Jess says, sounding absolutely shattered.

“And to think I was disappointed to miss out on seeing the sights in Bangkok,” Dean says. “I take it the traffic was bad?”

“Just don’t ever tell a Bangkok cab driver to step on it,” Gilda says.

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” Cas replies.

The bus ride is relaxing and pleasant for the most part, and just around dusk they pull up to a small station and head off in search of cabs. Dean’s agitation grows on the short ride to the temple, not because their cabbie is on a suicide mission, but because Dean knows it’s technically his turn to do whatever the clue in the next envelope tells him to. Neither he nor Cas have broken the pattern of taking roadblocks in turn, but they’re getting closer to the end of the race and he also doesn’t think they’ve been presented with anything _truly_ terrifying yet. Well, aside from all the truly terrifying stuff he had to get the fuck over himself and do anyway. Still, he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the closer they get to the end of the race, the bigger and heavier that shoe is starting to feel.

Charlie and Gilda have beaten them to the temple, but Dean’s not worried about the competition. He’s primarily worried about _himself_. The temple grounds are marked off with a few lanterns illuminating the path to the clue box and Dean’s fate. There are monkeys-- actual _monkeys_ \-- freaking everywhere. The grounds are practically swarming with them.

Dean can see the three tall stone towers of the temple looming up over him in the shadow of the setting sun, the sculptures carved into the facade seeming to almost come to life in the flickering glow of the lanterns lining the path. He shudders at the unsettling sight and turns his back to the building to focus on the task at hand and pulls an envelope out of the box.

He resigns himself to getting out the ridiculous head lamp once again in order to read his next clue. It helps that Cas stands resolutely by his side, one hand on his shoulder to read along with him, even if Cas seems to be more focused on the antics of a couple of the nearby monkeys than on Dean’s internal struggle.

“ **Who’s ready for some monkey business,** ” Dean reads out, and then groans.

“A fucking monkey joke,” he says, and Rick rolls his eyes at the swearing but keeps filming anyway.

“If you aren’t up to dealing with monkeys, I’ll do this one,” Cas says, smiling at one monkey racing off toward the temple with what looks like an apple in its mouth.

“No, no. It’s my turn. I got this. A long as I don’t have to kiss the monkey on the mouth, I think I’ll live.”

Cas, who’d been happily watching the monkeys up to that point, squinches up his nose in disgust. “Eugh, I certainly don’t think they’d ask you to do anything that… unsanitary.” Cas shudders at the thought.

“Yeah, well, they made you walk barefoot through the rat temple and you still haven’t washed those socks yet,” Dean says, pointing down at Cas’s feet.

“I’ve been trying not to think about that.”

“Okay then,” Dean says, and then sucks in a fortifying breath and tears the envelope open.

“ **One team member must properly assemble a ceremonial fruit feast for the monkeys. When it’s finished and approved by the judge, you must present it to the monkeys in order to receive your next clue.”**

“Monkey chef,” Dean says, exhaling with relief. “I can chop fruit for monkeys.”

“Good luck, Dean,” Cas says, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Dean races off in the direction Charlie’s just run around the side of the temple and over to an area cordoned off for their task. Cas and Gilda take their time following along behind them, both of them trying not to distress the monkeys too much by running like Dean and Charlie did. Sam and Jess arrive a minute later, and Jess zips past just as Sam catches up to them.

“This is awesome,” Sam says, gesturing at a group of monkeys. “I’m kinda glad Jess took this one. I get to watch these little guys play for a while.”

“They are quite entertaining,” Gilda says, delightedly watching two monkeys chase each other in circles.

“So are they,” Cas says, pointing to the tables where Dean, Charlie, and Jess are currently wrestling with a huge array of fruit and flowers, attempting to replicate the elaborately adorned examples.

Dean curses at a watermelon he’s trying to carve into a giant flower as the centerpiece to his arrangement. The juice is pouring down his hands and making the knife a bit slippery to grip, but no melon is going to get the best of Dean Winchester. Sure he doesn’t usually Martha Stewart them up this much when he cuts them up at home, but for a bunch of sacred monkeys, he’s willing to try.

It’s not long before he’s mostly got it looking like the melon in the display model and he can finally move on to the rest of the arrangement. He carefully places what look like tiny mangoes, weird little apples, and a colorful spray of flowers in the center of the melon and hopes he’s getting this all right. The final step is to peel about two dozen lychee nuts and a couple of strange furry red fruits that actually don’t smell half bad, but for the life of him he’s too weirded out to taste one. They’re fucking _furry_.

As soon as he thinks he’s done, he takes one last look at the example tray and then a look back at his own creation, and then waves the judge over to inspect his handiwork. The judge nods and smiles, and then directs him to the open lawn where tables have been set up for the monkeys to partake of their offerings. As soon as the first monkey jumps up and steals a lychee, the judge hands Dean his clue. He gives a little salute to the monkeys now swarming and tearing apart all his hard work and jogs over to Cas’s side.

“Well, that’s a little disappointing,” Dean says, handing the clue to Cas to open while he pulls out a bandana to wipe his sticky hands clean. Or at least clean-ish.

“Why do you say that? The monkeys seem to be enjoying themselves, and that was the whole point, right?”

Cas laughs at Dean’s grudging acceptance of that and then reads out their next clue.

“ **Take a train to Pak Kret, and then a ferry to to the island of Ko Kret. Search the Buddha Garden for your next clue.”**

“How likely is it we’re gonna be searching gardens tonight?” Dean asks, pointing at the faint glow over the western horizon that’s rapidly fading into darkness. “And how likely is it we’re gonna end up sleeping on a sidewalk outside said garden?”

“I’d rather not take bets on that,” Cas says, jogging back to the street in hopes of finding a taxi quickly.

They’re in luck when Jody and Donna arrive just as they’re leaving, and they wish the women luck as they pile into their newly-vacated cab.

The train ride to Ko Kret is even shorter than their bus ride to Lopburi was, but the last train of the evening isn’t for another hour and a half which gives all five teams a chance to catch up once again. By the time they finally arrive in Pak Kret and make their way to the ferry dock it’s well past 10 pm, and the next ferry across to the island isn’t scheduled to leave until 6:15 the next morning.

“Well, this is just peachy,” Dean says, looking around the small dock for somewhere comfortable to settle down for the night rather than just standing by the waterfront gazing forlornly at their next objective, 500 feet and yet an impossible distance away across the river.

“So, anyone interested in going halfsies on a hotel room somewhere?” Gabriel says. “Or fifthsies, even? Just to get off the street for a few hours?”

Jody just gives him a weird look. “You’re seriously suggesting that all fifteen of us walk into a hotel and ask for a single room.”

Gabriel shrugs. “We’ll just tell them we’re having an orgy.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Charlie says. “Pull up a park bench, friends. At least it’s not gonna get cold.”

And yeah, there are half a dozen park benches scattered around the little shopping area adjacent to the dock, and all the businesses seem to be closed up for the night, so Dean calls dibs on the one closest to the river and settles down with Cas for yet another uncomfortable night.

It’s the sunrise that wakes Dean up half an hour before they actually needed to be awake, but the side benefit to that is that Cas wanders off and returns about five minutes later with a cup of hot tea, a plate of piping hot x-shaped donuts, and a small bowl of some kind of tart orange-flavored custard. It’s the best breakfast Dean’s had in days, and Cas watches delightedly as Dean ecstatically moans his way through it.

The 6:15 ferry deposits them on the island of Ko Kret and all five teams take off running for the Buddha Garden. Not only had Cas asked the donut vendor about how to find the garden when he’d bought breakfast, it seems that every other team has also had a chance to discover exactly how to get there. It becomes a leisurely morning group jog up the path with none of the teams really pushing to sprint, which Dean thinks is kind of nice. They’re all teasing each other and pointing out interesting local attractions instead of fighting to get ahead in the race, and once again Dean feels lucky he can call all of these people his family. After a few minutes, Dean realizes Cas is looking over at him curiously, and Dean just smiles wider, grabs Cas’s hand, and keeps running.

There’s a minor stampede to the clue box and Dean stands back out of the fray to let Cas slither in between everyone else also grabbing for an envelope. He manages to sneak an arm in between Sam and Jess, startling them both, before slipping quickly back to Dean’s side and tearing into their next clue.

“ **Detour: Move It or Altar It.** ”

“Moving sucks,” Dean says before he’s even read the instructions for each task.

Cas ignores him and looks over both options carefully. “Sometimes the task requiring brute strength proves to be the easier challenge for us.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, we’re just a couple of gorillas.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, so what’ll it be, He Man?”

“In this case, I have to agree with your original conclusion,” Cas says. “Moving sucks.”

Dean laughs and grabs the paper, glancing at the instructions while following Cas back down the road they’d just run up. In Move It, they’d have to carry 72 clay pots from the pottery factory to a waiting boat by balancing them on a long board on their shoulders. Yeah, that kind of moving really sucks. A cartoonish image of the mayhem he’d likely cause trying to carry anything _anywhere_ on a board balanced across his shoulders flashes through Dean’s mind, and he shudders at the imaginary devastation of shattered pottery and concussed passers-by.

Their other option is Altar It, and Dean just has time to digest what they need to do before Cas is turning off the road at yet another temple and dropping his backpack beside a low platform laid out with everything they need to complete the task.

“Hey, hey, are you sure we can even do this?” Dean asks, looking over the complicated shrine they have to assemble and decorate. “How the hell do you _gold leaf_ shit anyway? Maybe we’re better off playing the hired muscle for this one.”

“I’ll show you. I took an art class in college. It’s not that hard.”

Dean gives Cas a withering look that Cas doesn’t see because he’s already setting to work applying glue to the Buddha statue they need to completely cover in gold. Sighing, he drops his bag beside Cas’s and kneels down by his side to watch the delicate process a few times before picking up a brush and starting in on the other side of the statue.

It’s not long before all the rest of the teams are also there working on their own shrines. Kali and Gabe are the last to arrive, about fifteen minutes after everyone else. They’d deliberately chosen to try the pottery moving task since no one else had decided to do it. They figured it might give them an advantage, but it hadn’t panned out.

“Not only did I drop and smash a dozen pots, I nearly took a dude’s head off with the plank trying to save them,” Gabriel says. “I’m gonna wanna see that video. I felt like I was cosplaying a helicopter crash.”

“That’s about how I pictured that one playing out,” Dean replies, not taking his eyes from where he’s using a soft brush to work a bit of gold leaf into the carved details of the back of the Buddha’s head. He finishes and then waves the brush above his head in a wide circle. “I’m less likely to accidentally decapitate anyone with this.”

With their statue nearly complete, Dean turns to the pile of wood, nails, and a hammer and begins constructing the simple shrine. “At least this is easier than the stupid Ikea desk,” he says, banging in a nail. “No weird bolts.”

In the time it takes Cas to finish decorating their statute, the altar is complete. Together they seat the Buddha in his shrine and present it to the judge. Dean hears Charlie and Gilda laughing and joking as they run from the temple having just had their own altar approved.

The judge carefully studies their altar from all sides, prodding at a loose flake of gold before finally turning to them with a smile on his face and handing over their next clue. Dean tears it open and reads, quietly so none of the other teams still working can hear, “ **Take the ferry from Pak Kret to Bangkok, and then travel on foot to the Marble Temple where you’ll find the next Pit Stop. Warning: the last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

Dean takes one last look at the three teams still working on their altars, all in various states of completion, and then runs off after Cas along the narrow path back to the river. They hire a small boat to return them to Pak Kret just in time to see Gilda and Charlie motoring off on the deck of the Bangkok-bound ferry.

“Later, bitches,” Charlie yells from the boat.

“Dammit,” Dean says. “The rest of the teams are gonna catch up with us and we’re gonna have to run for this marble temple place. How far is it, anyway?”

Cas studies the ferry schedule posted on the dock and then turns to Dean. “Another boat will be along in ten minutes. There’s a chance the rest of the teams will still be working by then. But we do have a few minutes to find the best route from the Bangkok dock to the Marble Temple while we’re waiting.”

He gives Dean a kiss on the cheek and then wanders over to the first open storefront he comes to. They have pamphlets for the Bangkok ferry displayed in the front of their shop, and five minutes later Cas returns with a grin on his face, a crudely drawn map of their route through Bangkok, and two tickets for the next ferry.

“We have nothing to worry about now,” he tells Dean.

“Yeah, we do,” Dean replies, spying Sam and Jess arriving back from Ko Kret just in time to jump aboard their ferry. “We’ve gotta survive a footrace in this damn heat against the floppy yeti and his Amazon of a girlfriend.”

“Awww, we love you too, Dean,” Jess says, coming up behind them on the deck of the ferry boat and giving him a one armed hug.

“Shut up, you’re both… more acclimated to this soup-for-air weather.” Dean points at Jess in her lightweight tank top and shorts, and Sam in what Dean’s sure are his swim trunks and a t-shirt. “You’re ready to swim through the air.”

“It’s not my fault you won’t wear anything but hiking boots, jeans, and flannel, Dean,” Sam says.

Dean just scowls at him and politely does not mention that he didn’t bother wearing flannel today, and is dressed practically in an AC/DC t-shirt instead. Cas just pats his shoulder and enjoys the breeze as the ferry motors rapidly toward Bangkok.

The moment the boat hits the dock, Sam and Jess spill out over the side railing and jump down to the shore, not even waiting for the gangplank to be fixed in place. Dean curses as he watches them run off and then disappear into the crowds. He and Cas are already being herded by the crowd toward the specifically designated exit and it’s too late to try and push through to one of the railings and pull the same maneuver.

As soon as they hit dry land, he and Cas take off at a dead sprint-- hiking boots, jeans, and heavy backpacks be damned. It’s easy to keep track of where Sam and Jess are, with their heads bouncing far above most of the rest of the crowd, and Dean’s almost disappointed that they seem to know exactly where they’re going and haven’t made a wrong turn yet according to Cas’s map.

“I think we’re gaining on them, Dean.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean huffs out between gulps of air. “Do we have time to catch them?”

Cas frowns, glances briefly at the map in his hand, and then picks up his pace even more.

Dean groans, but incredibly he’s able to keep up.

The temple’s red and gold roof comes into view in the distance and there’s now less than twenty feet between them and Sam and Jess. Sam finally hears them huffing and stomping up behind him, glances over his shoulder, and shrieks when he sees them. He grabs Jess’s hand and kicks in with one final burst of speed. Dean and Cas do the same, coming right up on their heels in front of the temple. Sam and Jess make it through the outer gate first, and then it’s only yards to where Bela waits for them at the mat. Sam flings out one arm to keep Dean from stepping on the mat before Jess can, even though Cas technically makes it there first. Sam’s elbow catches Dean on the side of his head. Instead of capturing a very exciting finish, the poor cameraman waiting with Bela blanches but just keeps filming as Dean launches into a loud and angry string of expletives, clutching at the side of his head, while Sam repeatedly apologizes.

Cas and Jess eventually get their respective partners calmed down and force them to apologize for their behavior. Bela and the woman waiting beside her just watch this entire family drama play out with bemused grins, and then finally the local woman gets her chance to speak.

“S̄wạs̄dī, and welcome to Bangkok, Thailand.”

Dean tries to focus on the woman decked out in an extravagantly embroidered gold and green gown and a headdress that reminds him of a golden and bejeweled version of some of the towering pointy-topped temples and sculptures they’ve seen. It makes his head swim even more trying to take in her glittering costume, so he just smiles politely and then shuts his eyes.

The four of them-- out of breath, sweaty, and exhausted, and in Dean’s case rubbing the sore side of his head-- just sort of nod and mumble thanks. Bela has mercy on them and picks up the conversation on their behalf.

“Well, Sam and Jess, Dean and Cas. The four of you have made a bit of a habit of close finishes recently. Since you’re not racing for first place today, it’s within the rules for me to declare a tie. So, congratulations, you’re both team number two.”

“Except some of us are team number three,” Dean says, squinting through the pain and glaring at his brother.

“Yes, well,” Bela says, her smile wilting before she can paste it back on again. “Regardless, you have another eighteen hour break here in Bangkok, and then all four of you can begin the next leg and compete for a chance to be one of the final three teams to race for the million dollar grand prize.”

At that moment, both Rick and the other cameraman come jogging into the temple grounds. Both men sigh with relief when they see the respective teams they were charged with filming have arrived safely where they’re supposed to be. When Bela dismisses them from the mat, Rick comes up to Dean and Cas and apologizes.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep up with you guys,” he says, handing over their pit stop information packet. “I know you’re racing for a huge payday here, but they don’t pay me enough to actually die trying to run as fast as you two. Serge and I gave up and caught a cab together, and just had to hope we’d find you guys here safe and sound.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, buddy,” Dean says. He really likes the guy, and he feels bad about how genuinely concerned he seems for their wellbeing.

“Just remember,” Rick says, leading them away from the temple to hail a cab to their hotel. “The camera guys are your lifeline on this race. If anything happens, if you get hurt, or lost, or really get into trouble, we’re your direct line to help.”

“We truly are sorry, Rick,” Cas says. “You’ve been with us for…” he tries to remember just how long it’s been since they left St. Petersburg and draws a blank. It’s been one long blur, with two legs smooshed together without a break in between. “It’s been a long time, anyway, and we appreciate how difficult your job must be. So, thank you. I hope you’ll be able to get a decent rest tonight, too.”

Rick grins at that and hops into the cab that’s just pulled over before waving Dean and Cas inside with him. “You better believe it! They put us all up at the nicest hotel around. They’ve got a pool and everything.”

Five minutes later their cab dumps them off in front of a luxurious hotel tower and they finally get to open their information packet and pull out their room keys. Dean and Cas bid Rick a pleasant rest and then head up to their room on the fifth floor to finally get a chance to stop, rest, and breathe.

The first thing Dean does is strip off his sweat-soaked clothes and then dumps out his bag full of other sweat-soaked clothes in order to swap them all out for fresh things from his big duffel bag. He’s still busy shoving one last clean t-shirt into his pack when Cas comes up and hugs him from behind. Dean can tell instantly that Cas has also stripped naked and he wonders how the hell he could’ve ever been too distracted with laundry sorting to miss that happening.

“We haven’t showered in five days, Dean,” Cas whispers in his ear, and somehow he’s found a way to make that actually sound sexy.

Dean sighs and closes his eyes, letting his head drop back against Cas’s shoulder. “Then we’ve got a lot of showering to make up for.”

It’s dinnertime before Dean and Cas venture outside their room again. After an epically long shower and then a short nap to recover from their shower, Dean wakes up with a growling stomach and Cas agrees they should probably find their friends and see how everyone’s doing.

“Hey, guys!” Donna calls out from a patio outside the hotel’s restaurant, where she and Donna, Charlie and Gilda, and Sam and Jess have pulled together several tables and appear to have just sat down to dinner. “Where’ve you been all afternoon?”

“Yeah, we were surprised you guys didn’t turn up for a swim,” Jody says, pointing over her shoulder at the hotel’s gorgeous pool.

“I’m not surprised,” Sam and Charlie mutter under their breath at the same time, and then covertly high five each other.

“Yeah, we showered and had a nap,” Dean says, glaring at his brother.

It’s Charlie who says, “Is that what the kids are calling it these days.”

Cas laughs, and Charlie just grins at Dean.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Dean asks, picking up a menu from the table in front of him while Cas leans in close to read over his shoulder.

“Oh, nothing much,” Gilda says. “We just won a couple of brand new Ford Focuses.”

That gets Dean’s attention, and he gets his hopes up just a little bit. He risks a glance up at Charlie. “You mean you’re finally gonna get rid of that piece of shit Gremlin?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Charlie says, offended that Dean would ever suggest such an outrageous thing, even though he’s been suggesting she get rid of the damn thing since the day she bought it. “I’m gonna sell the new car and use the cash to upgrade my gaming system.”

“Charlie, no,” Dean says. “Please. I’m barely keeping that bucket roadworthy. Just take the damn car and drive it in good health.”

Charlie glares at Dean, ready to defend her choice of vehicles yet again. “Your Impala and Cas’s Bel Air are _both_ older than my gremlin, and you don’t seem to have any trouble at all keeping _them_ roadworthy.”

“It’s not the same thing, Charles, and you know it.” Dean sighs at her and rubs one hand over his forehead. “Look, just think about it, will you? For me? I don’t like you driving that thing. It’s just not safe.”

From the look on Gilda’s face, Dean thinks she agrees with him. They share a tight nod, like they’ve entered into a secret pact to convince Charlie to dump her old rustbucket, and then Dean lets it drop for the night when a waiter comes by their table to take their drink orders.

“So I guess my brother and Kali were eliminated?” Cas asks when the waiter leaves.

“Yeah, they were right behind us getting off the ferry, but they never turned up at the mat, at least not while we were there,” Jody says.

Cas’s brow pinches up in concern and Dean rests one hand on his knee.

“I hope they’re both okay,” Cas says eventually.

“They’re fine,” Rick the cameraman says from where he’s sitting over across the patio with several other crew members. “Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I thought you’d like to know. Gabe twisted his ankle on the dock, and he and Kali knew they weren’t going to be able to keep pace with Jody and Donna. They resigned themselves to taking it easy for Gabe’s sake and they flew out a few hours ago. He’s gonna be fine, though,” Rick adds hastily when he sees Cas’s concern for his brother. “His ankle’s just gonna be sore for a few days.”

“Well, I suppose he won’t mind recuperating in Paris,” Cas replies.

“I don’t even know if they went to Paris, or if they just got sent to the finish line city,” Rick blurts out, and then claps a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t say that. I don’t even know what the finish line city is.”

Just the words _finish line_ set off a spark of surprise in the four teams sitting around the table, as if it’s suddenly become shockingly apparent that there are only four teams left and that means they really are getting close to the end of this race. They all just look around at each other for a moment, letting that sink in, wondering which of them will be eliminated on the next leg and which three teams will be left to set out on the final leg.

“I can’t believe there’s only two legs left,” Jess says eventually. “I mean, have we really been racing that long?”

“Twenty days,” Cas says.

Dean laughs. “Yeah, we counted when we were up in the room.”

“Wow,” Donna says. “Just… holy wow.”

They all eventually recover from their shock and spend the next few hours enjoying one of their last lazy, relaxing evenings of the race reliving the highlights and lowlights, speculating on what everyone’s been up to in Paris, and where they all might be headed next.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein things get sticky.

Despite having had a nap earlier, Dean and Cas also call it a night when their friends decide to head up to their rooms just after seven o’clock. They do have a really early start in the morning, an hour and a half earlier than the previous day’s sunrise wakeup call, and they intend to take full advantage of what might very well be their last night of proper privacy and a decent bed for the rest of the race, if the last two legs have been anything to judge by. They still manage to get six hours of actual sleep by the time their alarm wakes them up at 4:00 am.

Cas brews coffee for them both in their room and it goes a little way toward waking them up, but they’re still groggy when they shuffle out to the elevator twenty minutes later. Dean’s relieved when they meet up with Sam and Jess in the lobby and they look just as out of it as he feels.

There’s a small tray of bagels and fruit as well as a pot of coffee and a stack of paper cups set out on the concierge’s desk with a little race flag placard next to it, and Cas blearily points it out to Dean. He makes an unholy groaning sound and heads straight for the desk, shoving a couple of bananas in the side pocket of his backpack before spreading cream cheese over four bagel halves and then pouring himself and Cas some more coffee.

“Leave some for us, Dean,” Sam says, nudging him aside.

Dean doesn’t say anything, mostly because his mouth is stuffed full of bagel. He just chews judgmentally in his brother’s direction and hands a cup of coffee and one of the bagels to Cas.

With three minutes left to go before their start time, Dean tops off everyone’s coffee and Cas pockets one final bagel for the road before they head outside feeling a hell of a lot better than they had ten minutes earlier.

“Looks like we’ve swapped cameramen,” Dean says to Sam, spotting Rick and Serge waiting for them on the sidewalk.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Serge says with a hint of a French accent, warmly extending his hand to Cas and then Dean to shake.

“Yeah, same here. So, are we ready to go?”

Serge frames the shot, decides the lighting would be better if they turned ninety degrees to their right, and then frames the shot again. He checks his watch one last time and then hands over their clue just as Rick hands an envelope to Sam and Jess.

“ **Fly to Christchurch, New Zealand. At the airport, find one of the marked cars in the lot. Drive yourselves to the Rakaia River Gorge and search for your next clue at Discovery Jet.”**

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” Dean says, and they’re off to the airport.

There aren’t any direct flights to Christchurch from Bangkok, and the least-awful option they find after an exhaustive search is one flight that connects through Singapore with only a very short layover window. If they miss that connecting flight, though, they could end up stranded in Singapore for nearly 24 hours. Cas decides it’s worth the risk when he overhears Sam and Jess buying tickets for the same flight.

“If we’re stranded, at least we’ll have company,” Cas says, handing over their credit card to the desk agent.

Dean risks a glance over at his brother, who looks a little nervous about the quick connection too, and nods in solidarity. “Yeah, I could think of worse things.”

Charlie and Gilda are already waiting at the gate when the four of them finally make it there, and that’s an additional load off Dean’s mind.

“You just wait,” Dean says, taking the seat next to Charlie. “Jody and Donna will pick a different flight and will win the leg while we’re camping out all night in the Singapore airport.”

Charlie swats at Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’ll jinx us.”

“Who’s jinxing who, now?” Donna says, striding up to the gate with Jody.

“Hey, guys, the gang’s all here,” Jess says, making room for the two women to sit by her and Sam.

“I guess nobody’s jinxed now,” Cas says, kicking his feet up and tangling them with Dean’s atop their backpacks.

Dean clasps his husband’s hand and grins at him. Even when they don’t have access to their phones to document these moments, old habits die hard. He still finds himself reaching into his pocket for his phone to snap a photo of their feet, and sighs when he remembers it isn’t there. “Or maybe we’re all jinxed.”

Cas knocks their shoulders together and squeezes his hand, and neither of them notice Frank, the cameraman they’d let in on their little foot selfie secret way back in Machu Picchu, filming them from just behind their shoulders.

The shorter of their two flights-- it’s less than two and a half hours to Singapore-- actually lands a few minutes early. They still have to sprint through the terminal to make their connection. The longer flight to Christchurch is by no means the longest flight they’ve endured on this race, but factoring in the five hour time difference and the nearly eight hour flight, Cas manages to convince Dean to try and sleep as much as possible. They both spend the flight nodding in and out, and feel weird and out of sync with reality when they finally land and the captain announces the local time is 4:30 am.

Once again, Cas saves the day by braving the racks of tourist information and maps when they finally make it through customs. While he’s busy with that, Dean makes a quick but necessary trip to a coffee vendor who’s just opening for business. Dean hands a grateful Cas his cup of coffee and a croissant, and then hands the same to a very surprised but equally grateful Serge, and they finally head out toward the parking area at a brisk walk. There’s no way they’re gonna survive driving an hour to their first destination if they spill their coffee while trying to run to their car.

The walk’s made especially brisk by the fact that, after what feels like weeks in the tropics, they’ve finally arrived somewhere Dean’s cozy flannel shirts are more than welcome. Cas reminds him it’s technically winter in the Southern Hemisphere and Dean’s entire face lights up.

“No more sweating!”

“Well, we may still be asked to participate in activities that lead to sweating from exertion, but no,” Cas agrees. “Standing still and breathing are no longer automatically included on the list of sweat-inducing activities.”

There’s only one marked car left in the lot by the time Dean and Cas show up, but they’re just in time to see the other three teams driving toward the exit so Dean’s not too worried that they’ve fallen irrevocably behind the pack. He spares just a second to laugh at the car they’ve been assigned to drive, since it’s the same brand new model Ford that Charlie and Gilda just won on the last leg. It's just the weirdo backward wrong side of the road version, but he figures it's close enough. He reminds himself to continue pestering Charlie to junk her old Gremlin in favor of driving this far safer and more reliable car, and as such keeps up a running commentary of all the car’s selling features for the first ten minutes or so of their drive to the Rakaia River.

“Okay, Dean, we get it,” Cas says when even Serge begins making little pained noises of exasperation over Dean’s progressively more inane and pointless banter. “We all solemnly swear to try to convince Charlie that this is the best car she could ever possibly own, and that it would be an act tantamount to strangling kittens for her to sell it in favor of keeping her Gremlin. And before you say it, yes, we all agree that the Gremlin is a strong contender for the worst car in existence.”

Dean shifts in his seat, frowning at Cas in the rear view mirror for a second, but he gets it. “Sorry. Too much coffee on an empty stomach. I’ll shut up now.”

They pass Sam and Jess not long after they get out onto the highway. Sam is behind the wheel, pulled over onto the shoulder of the road, and Jess is leaning over the back seat so they can read their map together by the driver’s side map light. Dean slows down just a bit to make sure they’re not in real trouble and then keeps right on going. If Sam or Jess noticed them passing, they’ll likely just fall in line and follow them, which they do a few minutes later.

The second car they pass is Charlie and Gilda’s, when Dean helplessly watches them make a wrong turn. Dean honks and flashes his lights at them (and then pats himself on the back for having figured out how to do all that stuff while narrating the car’s features to Cas and Serge), and has to take a few steadying breaths to keep himself from chasing Charlie down and getting them turned back around. It is still a race, after all, and it’s not like they’ve accidentally detoured to Mordor or anything, even if this is New Zealand, since Cas has already had to remind him a couple of times that they aren’t actually in Middle Earth.

They overtake Jody and Donna when they miss the admittedly difficult to see in the dark turnoff to the Discovery Jet parking lot, and they have to find a safe place to turn around a few hundred yards farther down the road. The sun still hasn’t risen when Dean pulls into the first parking spot in the otherwise empty lot and jumps out of the car. He and Cas are already well trained to never leave their gear behind, so Cas hands him his backpack and the two of them set off running toward the route marker flag. It’s pinned to a bulletin board with cards marked 1, 2, 3, and 4 attached below it, along with a sign saying they open for business at 8:00 am. Dean tears off the large number 1 and checks his watch.

“Hour and a half to go,” he says, as Sam and Jess barrel toward them and tear off the number 2.

Jody and Donna pull up a few minutes later and look around curiously. Donna pulls off the number 3 as Jody asks, “Where’s Charlie and Gilda?”

“They were ahead of us, but they turned off the road about fifteen miles back where it split,” Jess says, pointing out the alternate route on her map. She turns to Dean and grins. “When we started following you, I didn’t have navigational duties to perform so I figured out where they were headed. It’s a little longer of a drive, but they should get here well before eight.”

Dean tries to act grumpy about being used as a GPS yet again, but he just laughs instead.

“Dean was momentarily concerned they were heading off to visit Hobbiton without him,” Cas says, and then the entire conversation veers off into wondering how close they are to any of the filming locations, and if any recognizable locations will be incorporated into the race.

“As long as we don’t have to climb Edoras, I’m in,” Sam says.

“What are you talking about? You’re the least hobbit-y of all of us,” Donna says. “We’d all be buried in snow and trusting you to be the lookout.”

Charlie and Gilda roll up just a few minutes before eight looking frustrated and exhausted. Dean’s about to ask how Charlie liked driving the car she’s just won, but from the look on her face he decides that this is absolutely not the right moment to push his No More Gremlin Agenda on her. She reaches past him to snag the number 4 card, and then sighs.

“Hi guys,” she says when Gilda comes up beside her and hugs her tightly. “We apparently took the scenic route.”

“I saw you turn off and tried to let you know you were going the wrong way, but I guess you thought _we_ were going the wrong way, huh?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, there may have been a short moment of panic, but we were committed, so we kept going,” Gilda says. “We got here in the long run.”

“And just in time, too,” Donna says, pointing at several trucks pulling into the lot.

Four men get out, wave to them, and then head down to unlock the gate to the boat ramp. One of the men has a stack of clue envelopes that he hands out to all four teams with a wink.  
“Forgot I was supposed to pin these to the board, too,” he says, and then all four teams tear into their next clue. “Oh, and I was also told to tell you to leave your gear and your keys in your cars. It’ll explain itself later, I expect.”

All the racers exchange a dubious glance and then run back to their cars, dump their gear, and return to the dock before reading out their clues for their respective cameramen.

“ **Choose a jet boat to take you up the river, then locate your next clue along the riverbank. Warning: Detour ahead.”**

Holding their precious number 1 card, Dean and Cas don lifejackets and climb aboard the first jet boat. One of the men jumps aboard, explains that his instructions are to follow _their_ instructions, and then cranks the engine. Dean’s first instinct upon hearing the roar of the jet boat is to discuss engine specs and horsepower with their driver, but Cas reels him in and forces him to pay attention to his side of the riverbank while the boat races along the river almost too fast for them to spot anything.

All too soon for Dean’s taste, Cas is tapping their captain on his shoulder and pointing out the route marker flag off the starboard side of the boat, and Dean sighs as the boat slows down and pulls toward shore.

“Couldn’t have let him take us a little farther and then made him turn around?” he asks, following Cas over the side of the boat and up the muddy bank of the river. “I was enjoying that.”

“It was pleasurable, but we can go boating once we win this race,” Cas says, tearing into their next clue.

“ **DETOUR: Drive one of the all-terrain vehicles up the marked path to the detour locations, and follow the signs for Rev It Up or Reel It In.”**

Dean looks around at the mention of ATV’s and spots a dozen of them parked just a few yards away up the bank. Two signs point in opposite directions, one toward each of their options.

“Reel it in sounds like fishing,” Dean says. When Cas nods, Dean adds, “Then I guess we’re doing the other one.”

“If we can’t put our trust in an elephant to walk up a hill for us, it’s unreasonable to put our trust in a fish being willing to give up its life for us in a timely fashion,” Cas agrees. “Plus I think you’ll enjoy the other one far more.”

“What’s it say?” Dean asks, now feeling genuinely excited by the twinkle in Cas’s eye.

“We both have to race a modified vintage car around an improvised track in less than a combined total of 83 seconds.”

Dean lets out an enthusiastic shout and runs off toward the first ATV, leaving Cas and Serge to catch up to him. Racing modified vintage cars? That’s the sort of thing he lives for. Cas too, come to think of it, considering how the dude drives his Bel Air.

At the end of the route the race flags have guided him along, not even the sight of a rough little dirt track marked out with orange cones, nor the sight of several modified Mini Coopers can dull Dean’s enthusiasm for this task. Cas and Serge catch up to him while he’s still watching one of the professional drivers navigate the course with a huge grin on his face.

“Shit, Cas, I’m just pissed off it’ll take less than 40 seconds of driving to finish this off.”

“You could do this all day, couldn’t you?” Cas asks, coming up behind Dean and wrapping an arm around his shoulders while they wait for the driver to return to the starting line.

Dean lets Cas take the first run and watches his husband strap on the safety helmet and buckle himself into the tiny car. A digital timer begins ticking the second Cas hits the gas, and he goes rocketing off down the first stretch of the racecourse.

Dean winces when he takes the first corner a little too hard. He realizes he’s muttering _turn right to go left_ under his breath like Lightning McQueen and glances around surreptitiously to make sure nobody overheard him. Cas gets the hang of it pretty quick after that and manages to finish the entire course in 42 seconds flat, leaving Dean 41 seconds to complete the same run.

The clock stops when Cas crosses the start/finish line, but he’s waved around and told to complete the entire loop a second time in order to stop right at the line for Dean to take over. When he gets out and unstraps his helmet to hand it off to Dean, Cas’s hair is now standing up in all directions and he’s got a maniacal grin on his face.

“That was fun, Dean. We need to do this again.”

Dean’s grinning too, but he leans in to kiss his husband before pulling on the helmet and jumping into the waiting car. “Any time you want, babe.”

He takes just a few seconds to get the feel of the tiny car, the shift lever, and the responsiveness of the wheel, and then absolutely floors it. He knows he’s taken off faster than Cas did, but when he reaches the first corner he just eases off the gas a bit and drifts his way through it. The rest of the course is a snap, and he zooms across the finish line in just under 37 seconds before taking a much easier second lap and coasting to a stop at the finish line.

When he climbs out of the car, he’s practically attacked by an enthusiastic Cas who’s hugging him and trying to kiss his face before he’s even pulled off his helmet. There’s a polite round of applause from the professional drivers gathered around the track and then the official judge of the event hands over their next clue.

“Have you considered driving professionally, mate?” he says to Dean, who just laughs.

“Just for fun, but thanks,” Dean replies. “I mostly build them, but I think I’d like to spend some more time doing this kind of driving.”

“Your beau seems agreeable to that,” the guy says, tilting his head toward Cas and then grinning at the both of them.

Dean turns to see Cas nodding enthusiastically, thanks the judge again, and then tears open the next clue.

**“Travel by ATV along the marked route and search for your next clue. Warning: Roadblock ahead.”**

They’re just heading back to their ATV’s when Sam and Jess come barreling up the path to take on the driving challenge.

“You don’t trust the fish to bite, either?” Dean asks, and then laughs and adds, “Good luck fitting in the car.”

He watches with glee when Sam gets a look at the vehicle he has to drive and his entire face falls and his shoulders slump at the thought of cramming himself behind the wheel of the tiny car, even for less than a minute.

“You can do it, Moose Man,” he hears Jess say in an encouraging tone just before he and Cas start up their ATV’s and zoom off in search of their next task.

At a fork in their path, they follow a sign marked ROADBLOCK PARKING, and find their next clue at a small clearing. Dean opens the box and finds all four clue envelopes are still inside. It’s only logical that they’re still in first place, but it’s still a relief to Dean, which he immediately feels a little bit guilty for thinking.

Cas pulls the envelope out of his hands a second later, and when Dean is about to say something, Cas just shrugs.

“It’s my turn again, technically.”

He rips open the envelope and reads the information printed on the second envelope within.

“ **ROADBLOCK: Who’s ready to race like a dog?** ”

“Haven’t we been racing like dogs for three weeks already?” Dean jokes.

Cas glares at him for a second and then reluctantly tears open the clue. He reads it in silence for a second, but his eyes bug out more and more the longer he reads.

“What?” Dean asks, sliding up behind his shoulder to read the clue himself. “What do you have to do?”

“Something called a 'Shemozzle,' which is apparently an obstacle course designed for sheep dogs to complete.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad, right? I mean, you’re great at running, and what kind of obstacles can they throw at you that you can’t handle?”

“Obstacles designed for sheepdogs to complete,” Cas says, grimacing at Dean and stuffing the clue back in the envelope. “I am not a sheepdog. And I have to collect a dozen eggs while doing it.”

He stomps off toward the tent where he’s required to change into a special outfit to complete the task, and Dean follows him inside leaving Serge all by his lonesome outside the small tent with nothing to film.

“Nice duds,” Dean says, examining the stacks of clothes labeled with each of their names.

There’s a set for him, but since Dean’s not competing in this particular challenge, he’s free to pick up the strange assortment of items sheerly to make fun of them. He holds up a burlap sack with holes cut in it for his head and arms, and whistles.

“Don’t mock it, Dean. I have to wear it on television for millions of people to see.”

Dean frowns and tosses it back down to the bench, and then sits down to watch Cas strip off his shoes, socks, and jeans. He pulls on a pair of short shorts that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination and, incongruously, a pair of knee-high rubber boots. Cas finishes off the bizarre look with the burlap sack shirt, which he throws on over top of his t-shirt. Between the potential itchiness of the burlap and the fact he has to wear a pair of microscopic shorts out in the chilly winter weather, Cas silently hopes that keeping his t-shirt on under the costume isn’t somehow against the rules.

“Ridiculous enough?” Cas asks, spinning in place with his arms out like the surliest fashion model in history.

Dean jumps to his feet and pulls him into a hug. “You are never ridiculous, Bumblebee.” He gives Cas a quick but thorough kiss and then sends him out of the tent with a pat on the ass. “Those shorts are really doing it for you, anyway.”

Cas makes a disgusted noise and grumbles about who the shorts are really doing anything for while stomping off toward his fate.

Dean picks up Cas’s discarded shoes and pants and follows his husband up the trail to a field set up like the world’s weirdest-- and possibly _worst_ \-- amusement park. There’s a small building with two low tunnels leading in one side and then out the other, several long blue nylon tunnels filled with feathers, and a towering pile of hay bales stacked up like a small mountain, one side fashioned into steep steps and the other lined with a plastic tarp like a giant slide designed to dump its riders into a small, muddy pond.

“Holy fuck,” Dean mutters, but it’s too late for Cas to hear his sympathetic warblings because he’s already run ahead to select a sheepdog and its master to accompany him through the course.

Cas approaches the four dogs and gives them a quick once over, selecting the dog he deems the least likely to humiliate him on national television. He recognizes that it’s an irrational basis for choosing his furry teammate, but the little guy smiled encouragingly at him, or at least that’s how Cas is choosing to see it.

“Let’s race, shall we?” he asks the dog.

The dog grins happily at him and wags its tail awaiting further instructions. When its master whistles a little tune, the dog instantly bolts off toward the small square building before Cas can even turn around to face the starting line.

The dog enters one of the tunnels, but there’s a sign at the mouth of the other tunnel with the race flag attached, so that’s where Cas heads. He crawls into the dimly-lit tunnel and regrets it almost instantly. Inside the squat building, dozens of heavy ropes coated in something sweet and sticky hang from the ceiling, dripping puddles of goo onto the slick wooden floor. He identifies the mystery substance as molasses when one of the ropes smacks him in the face. His hands and knees are absolutely coated with the thick syrup, and even more is dripping down on him from the ceiling. He has just a moment to shiver at the thought of Dean licking it all off of him when he spots a basket of eggs and grabs one in each hand before crawling for the exit.

The dog-- suspiciously molasses-free-- is waiting for him outside, still smiling up at him as he gets to his feet. At another whistle from its master, it takes off again for one of the nylon tunnels and barrels straight through it in a matter of seconds. The dog is already out the other end before Cas can even get to his knees and begin crawling through the other one. He tries to juggle the two eggs he picked up in the molasses hut in order to pick up two more in the feather-filled tunnel, but it’s hard to continue crawling while trying to hold four eggs in his hands. By the time he reaches the end, he’s accidentally crushed one of his eggs. He looks down at the mess on his hand, and then at the sticky, feather-covered mess that is his entire person, and just wipes the eggy goop off on his burlap sack and keeps going, chasing after the dog as it runs toward the mountain of hay.

“Doing great, babe!” Dean yells from the side of the field, and Cas turns just long enough to see Dean waving at him and giving him a thumbs up.

Cas just snorts, shakes his head, and begins the climb to the top of the artificial mountain. It’s easier than crawling through tunnels with the eggs, and he finds several more eggs nestled in the hay near the base of the pile. He manages to cradle them all gently to his chest while powering up the tall steps to the peak of the hill. He reaches the top just in time to see the dog scamper down the ramp on the other side and splash down in the shallow pond, and he takes a deep breath and prepares to hit the likely chilly water at the bottom.

He sits down, careful not to break any of the six eggs he’s trying to hold on to, and spots several other eggs nestled in the hay at the sides of the giant slide. After a quick internal debate, he decides he’s not going to push his luck and try to carry any more eggs than he’s already got. Instead of risking the eggs in his hands, he cradles them gently to his chest, scoots himself to the edge of the slide and lets gravity take over. His knee-high boots aren’t quite high enough to keep him from sinking into the mud at the bottom of the ramp. More than a little muddy water sloshes over the top and down into them as he trudges through the gluey muck to the basket marked _Cas and Dean_.

One of the judges peeks into the basket, announces that he has six unbroken eggs, and then sends Cas off to run the entire course again. He’s just headed back to the molasses torture chamber when Sam lopes up decked out in the same ridiculous outfit. The last thing he hears before crawling back into the building is Dean gleefully making fun of his brother.

After one more trip through the mud puddle, Cas deposits six more eggs in the basket and the judge finally hands him their next clue. Dean runs over to meet him, and in his excitement nearly hugs Cas until he gets a closer look at the sticky, muddy mess his husband is up close. Instead of the hug, Dean just makes a face and carefully leans in to kiss his cheek, licking his lips and grinning.

“You’re even sweeter than usual, Bumblebee.”

“I have mud in my boots,” is all Cas says before tearing open their next clue.

**“Travel on foot to the next Pit Stop at the Terrace Downs Resort. Warning: The last team to arrive may be eliminated.”**

“Okay,” Dean says. “Where’s that from here?”

One of the judges covertly points toward a race flag at the far end of the field at the edge of the woods.

“Looks like we have more running to do, then,” Dean says, just as Sam splashes down in the pond and curses as he smashes an egg on his lap.

“It’s okay, I still got seven in the basket,” he yells out to Jess.

“He’s got freakishly large hands,” Dean says to Cas, and they take off running before they have the additional pressure of Sam and Jess right on their heels. Dean turns just before they head into the woods to see Jody and Donna arrive, with Donna decked out in burlap and mud boots running straight toward the molasses trap. It only makes him run faster.

After a short jog through the woods they find themselves on a golf course and have to detour around a wide lake. As they get closer to the cluster of stone and timber resort buildings at the far side of the course, they spot Bela on the patio of one of the larger buildings and head straight for her. She’s standing with a local woman in a red and yellow patterned dress overlaid with what looks like some sort of grass skirt. As soon as they step onto the mat, out of breath from their sprint, she smiles and says, “Kia ora, and welcome to Canterbury, New Zealand.”

Dean and Cas smile politely and thank her, and then turn to Bela.

“Dean and Cas, you seem to have had quite the eventful morning, but you’ve made excellent time. I’ve been told you completed all your challenges today in record time and impressed quite a few of the judges in the process.”

Dean just shrugs and Cas nods, shifting his weight and letting his feet squelch around inside his rubber boots to break their silence. Bela sighs, evidently having finally given up on trying to make polite but inane small talk with either of them.

“Well, congratulations, all that hard work paid off. You’re team number one, and the first of three teams that will be racing for one million dollars in the final leg of the Amazing Honeymoon!”

Dean and Cas just stare at each other for a second and then blink, turning their attention back to Bela. The final leg, already? It’s hard for them to even imagine it after everything they’ve done in the last few weeks. They’d even talked about it at their last pit stop, but it hardly seems real now that they’re standing there on the mat. Bela either doesn’t notice their existential crisis, or she doesn’t care. Either way, she keeps talking while they’re sort of fuzzing out on the whole thing.

“And that title comes with a special bonus prize today. You’ll each receive a check for ten thousand dollars! You boys have now won four legs of the race so far.”

“Let’s see if we can’t make it five,” Cas says.

Dean just grins at him, stops caring about whatever the hell sticky goo of a mess his husband’s soaked in, and flings his free arm around Cas’s shoulders. “Sounds like a plan.”

Cas’s boots make a few more inappropriate slurping sounds when he shifts his weight against Dean and grins at Bela.

“Well, I think you’ve both earned a rest, and as such you’ll have another eighteen hour pit stop to relax and enjoy this beautiful resort before beginning the final leg. I hope you’ll take full advantage of the amenities.”

“Do the amenities include a garden hose?’ Cas asks, glancing down at himself and holding out one of his squelchy, mud-filled boots for inspection. He angles his foot enough for some of the muck to ooze out onto the pristine brick patio in an unsightly, lumpy puddle.

Bela laughs uncomfortably and turns a hopeless look on the cameraman before dismissing Dean and Cas to finally get cleaned up.

Serge pulls them aside and hands over their customary pit stop information packet. “The keys to your car are on the front seat. It was moved to the parking area just outside the chalet you’ll be staying at. Hang on to them, because you’ll need them tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Serge,” Dean says, taking the packet and expecting him to flee just as fast as nearly every other cameraman they’ve had along the way. He and Cas are both a little surprised when the guy follows them off the mat and toward the _chalet_ where they’re spending the night.

“I just thought you should know, Rick and I both requested to film your final leg, but I sincerely hope I get the assignment. It was a pleasure working with you both.” He sticks out his hand for Dean to shake, and then Cas, despite the molasses-muddy-eggy-feathery coating he’s got going on right now.

“Good luck to you tomorrow!” he calls out, and then heads to another nearby chalet where the crew is booked for the night.

“That was highly unusual,” Cas says, watching him walk away.

Dean grunts. “Nice to know we’re a favorite to win, though.”

“That certainly is encouraging.”

Dean stops off to fetch their gear out of their car while Cas heads directly to the shower in the room he and Dean picked for themselves in the four bedroom chalet. It has the biggest bathroom and a king size bed, not to mention a spectacular view of the river and the snow-capped mountains beyond. They figure it’s one of the privileges of coming in first and don’t feel guilty in the least about cherry-picking the best room in the joint.

By the time Dean gets back to the room with their bags, Cas has discarded his gross shemozzle uniform in the corner of the bathroom and managed to rinse most of the molasses out of his hair. He’d be further along in the process if he hadn’t spent so much time picking feathers and scrubbing grime off his _I <3 literal interpretation_ t-shirt that Dean had given him for Christmas.

The shirt is hanging to dry in a place of honor over the towel rack, and all the towels are stacked on the toilet lid when Dean wanders into the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes on the way to join Cas in the shower. Seeing the shirt hanging there makes him smile and strip faster. God, he loves his beautiful dork of a husband.

By the time they finish in the shower and eventually get themselves dressed and presentable again, the rest of the teams have arrived and already finished cleaning up. They find everyone gathered in the living room looking through the resort directory for something to do for the rest of the afternoon. There’s already a lively debate in progress, so Dean decides to bring up the obvious.

“What about lunch? We haven’t had a decent meal in days.”

“We had dinner on the plane last night,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, that was _last night_ ,” Dean argues.

“Which was only one day ago,” Charlie replies. “Not multiple _days_.”

Dean glares at her. They’ve already learned that Charlie and Gilda were eliminated, but for logistical and technical reasons they’re going to run the final leg of the race as if they were still competing. “Why are you still here again?”

“Because we’re too awesome to miss out on any of the fun.”

Dean thinks about that for a second and then shrugs in agreement.

“But seriously, what about lunch?”

The resort’s cafe is still serving lunch when they wander up to the main clubhouse a few minutes later, and they spend the first part of the afternoon lounging around and enjoying each other’s company. After an hour or so, Sam and Jess decide to try horseback riding, while Jody and Donna take a stroll down to the archery range. Charlie and Gilda lament the fact that they missed out on the daily Lord of the Rings tour, since it’s an all day event that starts first thing in the morning, but eventually they settle for a long walk to absorb the local beauty. Dean and Cas find themselves on their own until they’ve all agreed to meet up for dinner again at seven. That gives them over four hours entirely to themselves.

Dean’s first impulse is to go back to their room and enjoy the peace and quiet, and maybe enjoy shattering the peace and quiet for a while, but they’ve just spent an hour in the shower together and they do have the rest of the night to test out the bed, so he agrees to Cas’s suggestion of just walking around the resort to see if anything strikes their fancy.

Not far from the cafe they find the in-house spa and Dean’s intrigued by the list of services offered, posted like a menu at a fancy restaurant just outside the front door.

“Are you interested in having a facial, Dean? Or perhaps a manicure?”

“Shut up,” Dean replies to Cas’s friendly teasing. “You know we’ve won two trips that include a day at a spa. I just wanted to know what we’re in for.”

“Do they have any of Gabriel’s designer mud?”

“I can’t tell, but it looks mud-free. I figured you’d had enough mud for one day.”

Cas hums thoughtfully and then pulls out his wallet, prying his other hand free from Dean’s in order to thumb through and add up all the cash he’s been saving after each leg of the race. They’re given a stipend for cab fare, food, and other incidentals at the beginning of each leg, but he and Dean have still managed to save up a fair bit of it for emergencies by being frugal where they could along the way. They haven’t really splurged on anything since their dinner at the pub in Cambridge, and he’s amassed quite a nice little sum. He counts out the money and examines the spa’s menu.

“I have enough for each of us to get a short massage or a pedicure. Your choice.”

Dean looks between the menu, the wad of bills in Cas’s hand, and then up at Cas’s face. “You’re serious.”

Cas shrugs and begins to put the money back into his wallet, but Dean grabs his wrist and stops him.

“You wanna do it?”

“It sounds like it could be very relaxing,” Cas replies.

“Maybe relaxing is what we need, then,” Dean says, opening the door and ushering Cas inside.

Since they intended to inquire about the 45 minute neck and shoulder massage and blow their entire emergency savings cushion in the process, they’re pleasantly surprised to learn that the race is covering their tab for all resort activities, including the spa, so they go whole hog and order up the most expensive thing on the menu-- a complete two and a half hour couples spa-stravaganza. At least that’s what  Dean becomes fond of calling it while sipping champagne and cuddling up to Cas in a couple of fluffy bathrobes while their feet soak in a bubble bath. They endure something called a “body polish,” a full body massage, and finally a facial, and they’re both feeling boneless and absolutely fantastic when they walk out just before five o’clock.

“I don’t know if that was worth five hundred bucks, but it was definitely worth something,” Dean says as they wander outside just in time to enjoy the sunset from the balcony of the spa building.

“I believe the exchange rate works out closer to three hundred and fifty dollars, but I agree. That was extremely enjoyable.”

They settle into a single lounge chair on a patio near the restaurant they’re meeting up with everyone else at for dinner. It’s getting cooler now that the sun’s set, so of course they need to huddle together for warmth, which leads them to revel in their ultra-relaxed post-massage state by getting comfortable and making out. When Sam and Jess show up a few minutes later Dean groans at the interruption. He’s grateful that Cas stays right where he is, sprawled out half on top of him, both for the warmth and because Cas’s thigh is hiding just how arousing he finds Cas at that moment.

“Yeah, we get it,” Jess says when they’re caught in the act. Well, not quite in _that_ act, but close enough.

Dean glares at them both. “I thought you guys were riding horses.”.

“Funny thing, they make you bring the horses back when it gets dark out,” Sam replies.

“They do the same thing with the bows and arrows,” Jody adds, walking up from the other direction with Donna.

“It’s probably best not to shoot deadly projectiles in the dark,” Cas agrees, quite reasonably.

“The scenic view’s not nearly as scenic in the dark, either,” Gilda says, as she and Charlie round the corner from the hiking trail.

“I guess that’s what we get for trading the longest days of summer in the Northern Hemisphere for the shortest days of winter in the Southern Hemisphere overnight,” Donna says, and everyone murmurs agreement.

“So what do you all say to pushing up the dinner reservation an hour and hitting the hay a little early?” Jody suggests.

“Please don’t mention hay,” Cas replies, feeling a phantom itch at the reminder of that morning’s activities. “But I’m amenable to the rest.”

After their last leisurely dinner of the race they all stroll back to their chalet and call it an early night. Dean and Cas take their time evaluating the relative merits of their bed and then drift off to sleep knowing they’ve only got a few more days to go before the race is over and they have to return to their regular lives.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the other shoe drops.

Cas and Dean get up just before five am. They dress and gather their belongings before making their way down to the chalet’s kitchen in hopes of finding something that will pass as breakfast. Dean makes a pot of coffee and Cas discovers a basket of fresh fruit and muffins laid out on the counter. It’s enough to get them moving when Jody and Donna turn up a few minutes later looking groggy and caffeine deprived. Cas pours them each a cup of coffee and wishes them luck. He stuffs a couple more muffins in his bag and then heads outside with Dean before Sam and Jess can wander downstairs.

It had surprised everyone when Donna had overtaken Sam in the shemozzle race. He’d been up seven eggs to six after one lap of the course, but on his second trip down the slide one of his boots caught in the hay alongside the tarp and he’d spun around, dropped all his eggs, and landed face-first in the pond to add insult to injury. Donna came sliding down right after him and dashed off toward the pit stop with Jody before Sam even began his third circuit through the molasses hut.

The start point for the final leg of their race is mercifully the front porch of their chalet. It’s still dark out, but with the porch light on it’s easy to see Serge waiting there for them with a huge grin on his face.

“You stuck with us again, Serge?” Dean asks, letting the cameraman move them around so the light from the porch lamp will hit their faces just right when he hands them their clue.

“Not stuck, I asked to work with you both again. I told you that already,” he replies. “You are entertaining and polite, and considerate of your crew.”

“Aside from that time we left you and Rick in our dust in Bangkok,” Cas reminds him.

Serge just shrugs like it’s of no concern at all. “You are courteous, but not to the point of stupidity. That’s why you’re in first place going into the final leg.”

“We’ll do our best to be there at the end,” Cas says, and Serge grins at him and pats him on the shoulder.

“I think we’re ready to go,” he says, holding up his camera and handing over the envelope.

“ **Fly from Christchurch to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Locate this building and then search there for your next clue. Warning: First Roadblock ahead.”**

They take a minute to squint at the enclosed picture of the building they’re supposed to find. It looks a little bit like a flying saucer accidentally used it as a landing platform. At least they agree that every cab driver in the city will likely recognize it and know exactly how to get there.

“ _First_ roadblock,” Dean says, running to their car and chucking his backpack into the back seat with Cas. “Which probably means something awful that neither of us are gonna want to do. Because the second roadblock is usually the big memory challenge thing where you have to come up with some obscure details from every leg and put them in order or whatever.”

Cas hums. “Maybe they’ve _mixed things up_ this time,” he says, doing the little finger quotes so Dean can see them in the rear view mirror as he backs out of their parking spot.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Whatever the case, they get to the airport early enough to have the widest possible array of flights to choose from and plenty of time to scope out various airlines for the fastest route available. Dean finds it hilarious that, due to crossing the International Date Line, they’re technically landing in Vancouver three hours _before_ they take off from Christchurch, all on the same date on the calendar. This touches off an interesting conversation with Cas about the nature of time that has both Serge and the ticket agent fascinated. They’re finally cut off when Jody and Donna stroll up to the counter and shoo them away so they can buy their tickets on the same flight.

“Guess we’re gonna have some competition right to the end,” Dean says.

“We may yet have one more flight to go,” Cas reminds him. “Unless we’ll be driving back across the border into the U.S. I don’t think any edition of the Amazing Race has ended in another country before, but then again…”

“Yeah, they could be _mixing things up_ again,” Dean says, pulling the little air quotes and trying his damndest not to grin at his husband.

Sam and Jess join them at the gate for the first of their two flights, with a comfortable hour and fifteen minute layover in Auckland before carrying on directly to Vancouver. The first thing Sam does when he sits down next to Dean is point out their arrival time on his boarding pass.

“Today is Monday, but tomorrow’s gonna be Monday, too!”

Dean just glares at him for a moment, but then he has a brilliant idea. “We’re coming back to New Zealand to take all the Lord of the Rings tours anyway, so we’re flying home on Pie Tuesday. We can have Pie Tuesday _two days in a row_.”

Cas laughs at that, but Sam nods solemnly. “It’s like having a time turner.”

Dean whips around and glares at his brother. “Okay, since Charlie’s not here to bitch at me, can we lay off the Harry Potter references in relation to Pie Tuesday?”

“Treacle tart is kind of like pie, and Harry likes it, so I think you’re in good company for Pie Tuesday,” Sam insists.

Dean considers this for a minute, not letting up his glare, but then finally relents. “Fine. Harry Potter me up an extra Tuesday for pie.”

On their flight from Auckland a few hours later, the pilot announces when they cross the International Date Line and welcomes everyone back to Sunday night. They try to spend as much of the rest of the flight sleeping as they possibly can, knowing that when once land just after seven in the morning they likely won’t get another chance to rest until they’re running across the finish line. It’s not easy to settle down and fall asleep with all that nervous energy running through them, but Dean and Cas, at least, find more than enough comfort in each other’s shoulders to relax into dreamland, snuggled together under an itchy airline blanket.

When they’ve finally landed and made it through customs, Cas snags a local map out of habit and then they run straight outside to jump into a cab. Sam and Jess hop into the cab directly behind theirs, but Jody and Donna run down the sidewalk past a line of waiting cabs. Dean and Cas briefly wonder where they could possibly be going before showing the picture of their destination to their driver.

“Ah, Harbour Centre,” the driver says, flipping the meter on and pulling out into traffic.

“Is there another way to get there from here?” Cas asks out of curiosity, hoping Jody and Donna haven’t wandered too far off course. “A train, perhaps?”

The driver waves his hand off in the direction their friends just ran. “Ten minutes walk, another half hour on the train. I’ll get you there fifteen minutes faster.”

Cas leans back content that they made the right choice, at least for now. “Speed is of the essence,” he says, and the driver gives him a significant look in the rear view mirror and pushes his speed up as fast as he’s willing to go in the Monday morning rush hour traffic.

The driver is as good as his word, and despite a few traffic delays he drops them off right outside the building less than thirty minutes after picking them up at the airport. They spot the clue box and route marker flag almost immediately, directly outside a set of glass doors leading into the shopping complex at the base of the tower. Dean resigns himself to completing whatever horrible task is inside the envelope before taking a deep breath and tearing it open.

“ **Who’s feeling a little too grounded?”**

“Fuck,” he says, long and slow. “This is gonna be bad. I like the ground. I just landed back on the ground after thirteen damn hours _off_ the ground.”

“I can do it, Dean. Whatever it is. You’ll need to do the second roadblock, though.”

Dean takes one glance up at the tower above them, the edges of the spaceship perched atop it barely visible over the side of the building. He just knows they’re gonna find a way to dangle him from it somehow. Dean and Cas have already discussed this, though. Whatever they make him do is gonna suck, but if they’re gonna win this thing they need Cas and his huge beautiful brain to tackle that last task. Dean’s got an awesome memory for stuff and he can spot patterns and details like no one’s business, but Cas has a practically photographic memory for details, not to mention a far better grasp of languages. He’s also the one that’s been keeping a journal of everything they’ve done for the last three weeks and studying it every time he’s had five minutes of quiet time. Whatever their final challenge will be, Dean just knows Cas _needs_ to be the one to do it.

He takes another deep breath, bends over and rests his hands on his knees for a minute, just breathing slowly in and out until the urge to panic slips away. Cas’s hand tracing slow, soothing circles on his back helps a lot, too. When Sam and Jess pull up halfway down the block and spot them standing there, Dean decides it’s finally time to bite the bullet and tear open the damn clue already.

“I got this, Cas. I’ll do it.”

“ **Follow the signs inside the building to the roof of the shopping pavilion. Using an ascender, make your way to the Lookout atop the building to receive your next clue.”**

“The hell’s an ascender?” He asks Cas, following the signs to a stairwell. They climb six stories worth of stairs and find themselves on a rooftop where a group of people are waiting with climbing gear, and three long ropes dangle from the circular Lookout about twenty stories above them.

“I believe that’s an ascender,” Cas says unhelpfully, pointing at the ropes.

Dean drops his backpack at Cas’s feet, leans in to his husband, grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him in for a hard kiss. “In case this kills me, I just wanted you to know I love you.”

“I knew that already,” Cas tells him. “And you’re going to be fine.”

Dean nods absently and then kisses him one more time.

“I love you too, in case you needed to hear it anyway.”

Out the corner of his eye, Dean can see Sam having a similar moment with Jess, so he steels his nerves and heads over to the first rope to meet the climbing instructor waiting there for him. It takes a few minutes to get suited up in the safety harness and the awkward helmet fitted with a contraption that looks like some bastard offspring of a GoPro and a selfie stick, with the camera pointed right back at his own face.

“Great,” he grumbles to himself. “The whole country’s gonna get to watch me cry in hi def.”

The instructor laughs, but then gets a look at Dean’s serious face and gets right back to business showing him how to operate the ascender.

“You just slide this device up the rope and it locks in place when you pull back down on it, so you can slide the second one up with your other hand,” she says, like it’s simple.

And it is simple, aside from the fact he’s got to keep at it for however long it takes to drag himself up twenty stories while trusting his life to two little bits of metal and a safety harness that’s already got his junk in a vise before his feet have even left the ground. The instructor makes one final check of his equipment-- the ascenders, not his junk-- and gives him the all clear to climb at will.

He turns around to look back at Cas, who gives him the thumbs up, and then over to Sam who’s still struggling to get into his harness, and slides the first ascender as high up as he can reach. He gives it a good, strong tug to make sure it’s actually gonna support his weight and then slides the second ascender right up to it, pulling himself up to repeat the process, this time with his feet dangling three feet off the ground.

It’s hard work, but he finds a rhythm pretty quickly and Dean feels like he’s making decent time. He’s got no real idea whether that’s true or not. He refuses to look up any higher than he has to and there’s no way in hell he’s looking down to see how far he’s come. Instead, he focuses all his attention on breathing and keeping his hands moving. As long as he doesn’t stop or look down, he thinks he can actually do this.

He’s not sure how long it ends up taking, but his shoulders and arms are burning from the effort when at last he’s being pulled over the edge of the roof and his feet finally hit solid ground again. Dean would collapse to his knees and kiss the roof if he thought he’d be able to stand back up again afterward. His arms are trembling from exertion and his legs are numb from being pinched in the harness and his heart is pounding at the thought of what he just did.

The instructor at the top of the building helps him remove the weird video helmet and the safety harness, then directs him inside to climb one last flight of stairs to the Lookout. He mutters something that he hopes sounds like _thank you_ , and wobbles off toward the stairwell and up to the glass-enclosed observation deck. He’s met inside by a nice lady who hands him a small glass of beer, which he downs gratefully in a single go. When he hands back the empty glass, she gives him his next clue and sends him back to the ground in a glass bubble of an elevator. He just closes his eyes and pretends everything is fine the entire way down.

Cas is waiting for him when the elevator doors open, and he doesn’t even care who sees it or films it or whatever; Dean just pulls him into a hug and doesn’t let go. Cas holds him tight knowing Dean just needs a minute to reset himself before he’ll be good to go again.

“That was incredible to watch, Dean. You flew up that rope twice as fast as your brother did. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Really?” Dean asks, finally letting his grip on Cas ease up a little bit.

Cas nods and smiles at him. “He was still only halfway up when you disappeared over the edge.” Cas frowns then, and sniffs at Dean’s face. “Have you been drinking?”

“Heh. Yeah. They give you a beer when you reach the top. I guess that’s your reward for not splattering yourself all over the sidewalk.”

“I’ll give you a better reward later. What’s our next clue?”

“Oh, right,” Dean says, remembering the envelope clamped into his clenched fist. He flattens it out against his thigh and then hands it over to Cas while he slips his backpack on over his aching shoulders, longing for a trip back to the spa for another body polish and a neck rub.

“ **Take a cab to Nelson Park and find one of three marked food trucks to receive your next clue. Warning: Detour ahead.** ”

“Okay, then,” Dean says, wincing as he holds out his arm to hail a cab.

Less than ten minutes later they’re circling the park looking for any food trucks at all, when all of a sudden they come across three parked all in a row at the south side of the park. They jump out, pay the driver, and dash off to the first truck in line, which Dean thinks is kismet because it’s called Pi R Round, and specializes in anything you can reasonably stuff into a crust. Dean feels an instant kinship with anyone who could dedicate their lives to pie with that kind of passion.

The guy inside takes one look at their eager faces and hands over their clue.

“ **DETOUR: Shop It or Hock It.”**

“That sounds fairly straightforward,” Cas says, looking at their options.

Hock It requires them to ride around in their chosen truck until they’ve served twenty customers. Considering the time of day, just after ten in the morning, it doesn’t seem like there will be patrons clambering to buy lunch yet, so the obvious choice is Shop It.

“The farm market is only two blocks away and we shouldn’t have a problem carrying back all the items on this list.”

The truck’s proprietor hands over two large crates and even offers to keep an eye on their backpacks for them while they’re off filling his grocery order. It’s a pleasant walk, but without his backpack weighing down his shoulders, Dean finally gets a chance to stretch out his arms and back after his climb. It’s a lot easier to chill out and just breathe now that every muscle in his body isn’t on high alert danger deathwatch DEFCON 1 status anymore, either.

Cas hands back his crate when they reach the shop and they begin adding the weird assortment of produce on the list to their bins. It takes a while to find everything, but when Cas has double-checked all their items against the list they head to the checkout stand to pay. While they’re being rung up, Cas nudges Dean’s elbow and points over to the front door where Jody and Donna have just run inside.

“I guess Sam and Jess did the other thing,” Dean says, wondering if they’ve finally been knocked out of first place, or if Sam and Jess have just sealed their fate.

When everything’s accounted for and tallied up by the cashier, she hands them the itemized receipt and wishes them luck. Dean thanks her, hefts his crate, and they set out for the two block walk back to the park.

Back at the truck, they trade their produce for their backpacks and their next clue.

“ **Take a cab to the Vancouver Aquarium and search for your next clue. Warning: Second Roadblock ahead.** ”

It’s just before noon, and the little park is unfortunately not the busiest area to find a cab at that time of day, so they risk running back toward the shopping district a few blocks over and hope their luck improves. That’s when they spot Sam and Jess in one of the other food trucks parked in front of a lunch rush crowd just itching to buy one of their sandwiches, almost immediately followed by Jody and Donna speed-walking back toward the park with their crates full of groceries.

Dean and Cas share a desperate glance at one another and start running in the general direction of the aquarium, keeping an eye out for a cab as they dodge around parked cars, pedestrians, and flower beds in a bid to keep their very slim lead alive. To everyone’s relief, especially Serge’s since he’s trying his best to keep filming without accidentally tripping and falling into traffic, they find a cab less than three blocks after their mad sprint begins.

“Vancouver Aquarium, and step on it!” Cas shouts, jumping into the cab.

Serge quickly negotiates whether he can sit up front with the driver, but the man points out his lunch already occupying the front seat, so Dean and Cas squish together so Serge can cram into the back seat with them. Anything to get this show on the road. They’re so close to the finish line they can practically taste it, and they’re not about to give up a perfectly good cab for the sake of a few minutes of comfort after nearly a month of sleeping on sidewalks and on buses, trains, planes, and far worse.

“You ready for your roadblock, professor?” Dean asks, while their driver does his best to live up to Cas’s demand for speed.

Cas makes a funny little yipping noise and leans forward, practically slamming his face into the back of the driver’s seat. Dean’s freaked out for a second, until Cas points over his shoulder at his backpack and frantically asks Dean to fetch his notebook out of the front pocket of the bag.

“I’d like to review my notes one last time,” he says, leaning back when Dean hands him the notebook. He’s been recording every activity they’ve performed, every significant milestone they’ve achieved, and everything that could possibly be important to remember for this final challenge.

“You haven’t memorized the whole thing by now?” Dean asks, grinning at his husband.

“It’s likely,” Cas replies, running his eyes carefully over each page before flipping to the next. “But it can’t hurt to be certain. I feel there’s a lot of responsibility on my shoulders right now, and I don’t want to disappoint you, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean says, a lump rising in his throat. “Cas, hey. Look at me.”

Cas shakes his head and keeps paging through his book. Dean’s torn between letting him finish and making sure Cas understands something far more vital than the outcome of this race. He decides that nothing is more important than Cas really hearing what Dean needs to say, and gently lays one hand on Cas’s wrist to get his attention.

“Cas.”

He finally looks up at Dean with a strained mix of tension, anxiety, and just a little bit of frustration at the interruption.

“Cas, you could never disappoint me, okay? Win or lose the race, you could never, ever disappoint me. You’ve been impressing the hell out of me since the day we met. Even more so in the last few weeks. I never want you to think you’re anything less than the most incredible guy I’ve ever met.”

Cas just stares at Dean for a second, letting his words sink in while a little of his stress melts away. “But look at everything you’ve put yourself through just to come on this race in the first place, Dean. You’ve overcome your fear of flying.”

Dean grumbles a little at that but Cas swats his knee and keeps talking.

“You’ve pushed yourself so hard, even just this morning. I watched you climb the outside of a skyscraper like a monkey shimmying up a vine, and _I_ was terrified on your behalf. I can’t even imagine how hard that was for you, but you did it and you’ve kept doing it this whole race. I don’t want to let you down at the final challenge.”

Dean shakes his head again and reaches up to pull Cas in for a kiss. He leans back just far enough so that Cas can look directly into his eyes, and he says it again. “You will _never_ let me down, Cas. You walked barefoot into a rat temple and you were only worried that you might upset the rats. You won the fucking Highland Games like you were born wearing a kilt. Which I wanna see you wearing again as soon as fucking possible, by the way.”

Cas laughs at that, but Dean’s not finished with him yet.

“And you know, I never would’ve gotten my ass on a plane at all if it wasn’t for you. I never would’ve gotten on that skyway ride in Brazil if you hadn’t been there to help me survive it, let alone jumped off the cliff at the top. You don’t seriously think I did any of that shit without your help, do you? Hell, we wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t been with me the entire race. You really, really, _really_ couldn’t possibly fucking _let me down_ , Cas.”

They just sit there breathing for a second, staring into each other’s faces from three inches apart, and then Cas swallows hard and nods.

“Same,” is all he says, and then leans in for one more kiss.

Their driver clears his throat and Serge whips around and glares at the man for interrupting their moment. He glances back at them in the mirror apologetically and then says, “We’re in Stanley Park now, we’ll be at the aquarium in just a few minutes. Thought you might want to know.”

“Thank you,” Cas says, then smiles at Dean and goes right back to his studying.

Cas snaps his little notebook shut when they pull up at the front entrance to the aquarium and spot the next route marker flag by the front doors. Dean throws some cash at the driver and the man turns to wish them good luck. Cas is already halfway across the sidewalk to the building, so Dean just smiles and waves at the guy before taking off at a run to catch up.

Cas already has the envelope in hand, but he waits impatiently for Dean and Serge to catch up before ripping it open.

“ **Who has a way with words?”** Cas reads out, and then holds his hands out and grins at Dean.

“Yeah, babe, you got this one in the bank.”

Cas tears open the second envelope to read his instructions.

“ **Locate the Wild Coast exhibit and say hello to a few new friends. Match the greetings from each pit stop, as spoken by the greeter at the end of each leg of the race to the correct country, attach them to the correct nation’s flags, and then raise them in the order you visited each one. When the judge deems you have completed the task correctly, you will receive your next clue.** ”

He’s barely finished reading it before he throws the clue, his little notebook full of race information, and his backpack at Dean and he’s barreling through the front doors of the aquarium in search of his destination. Dean juggles the unexpected load of gear, shoves the notebook and clue into Cas’s bag, and then flings the whole thing over his shoulder so he has a free hand to grab a map of the aquarium from a display rack and take off after Cas, and hopefully not trample any of the other aquarium patrons along the way.

The one time Dean actually thinks to grab a map, it turns out they don’t even really need it. Signs point them past half a dozen other exhibits and directly to their destination. Just a few minutes later they’re both emerging through another set of doors into an outdoor exhibit area, the expansive sidewalk partitioned into three large curtained-off regions, one for each of the teams left in the race.

Cas stops dead in his tracks when he sees a pair of sea otters floating on their backs in the nearest pool, cuddled up to one another with their paws clasped together. He stares at them for a second or two, open mouthed, and then turns to Dean and points at the otters.

“They’re adorable, Dean. They're holding hands.”

Dean tries not to laugh at his husband. “You’re adorable, Cas. And once you finish this task, I promise to bring you back to stare at the otters for the rest of the day after we win the race. Deal?”

That shocks Cas back into action and he runs for the first station. There's a row of tall flagpoles numbered one through eleven and set at intervals around edge of the oversized cubicle Cas has chosen, while the spaces between them along the makeshift walls are covered with flags. Cas counts at least twenty different flags, despite only actually needing eleven of them. He supposes the trick is finding the correct eleven, and then matching them with the appropriate greeting printed on one of two dozen cards laid out on the table in the center of his work station.

He decides to start with the words first, since he _knows_ he’s got that part down cold. He’d actually started suspecting this might be part of their final challenge way back in leg two or three, and he’s been making special notes about the various translations of “hello” they were given upon reaching the mat in each of the eleven legs up to this point.

His first task is accomplished quickly. With all the extraneous cards stacked up neatly and set aside, he’s about to lay the remaining eleven correct greetings out on the table in order when he hears Sam shout.

“Hey, Dean!”

Dean just waves back nervously and focuses all his attention back on Cas. Jess pats him on the shoulder as she jogs past Dean to the next stall over. Sam strolls past a moment later and parks himself along the railing a few yards down from Dean, as focused on Jess as Dean is on Cas.

Cas puts all of that out of his mind and devotes all his attention to what he needs to do, muttering under his breath while mentally matching everything up.

“First was Vermillionville,” he pulls down the American flag, attaches it to the first flag pole, and then clips the Creole _Bonjou_ just beneath it before running it up the pole to the top. He glances back at Dean, who gives him a grin and a thumbs up, and then gets back to work finding the second flag.

“Peru, Quechua, _rimaykullayki_ ,” and up the second flag pole it goes, to a memory of the taste of picarones on Dean’s lips.

With each one complete, he gets more and more confident that he’s got this under control, and it becomes almost meditative-- flag, greeting, pole, next. He repeats the process for every single pit stop.

Brazil, Portuguese, _olá_ , and a flashback to exploring the forests around Iguacu with Dean. Burkina Faso, More, _ne y windiga_ , because how could he ever forget the language lessons he got from a group of excited school children? Next comes Scotland, the unusual choice of a Doric greeting, _aye-aye min_ , and a full body shudder at the thought of Dean in a kilt throwing the caber. He has to struggle to keep his imagination from running away with him after that.

Next is Norway, and the simple Norwegian _hallo_ , followed by a night of lively celebration in a mountainside cabin with their friends. Sweden, and the only slightly different _hallå_ after an exhausting ordeal of a day-- and the first of his two obnoxious encounters with hay on this race.

Russia, _zdravstvuyte_ , is next, after what was possibly their most frustrating single day of racing, Gilda and Charlie magically appearing in front of them everywhere they turned. India, _namaste_ , where he’s glad his brother finally won a leg, but would’ve given nearly anything to just be able to stop racing for a few hours. Thailand, _S̄wạs̄dī_ , and that long-awaited and entirely pleasurable pit stop they enjoyed in Bangkok. Then last but not least, New Zealand, with a Maori greeting of _kia ora_ , and the incredible spa treatment he and Dean shared last night. Or is it two nights ago? He decides it doesn’t matter, because he’s finished the challenge and calls over the judge.

Cas is surprised to see Donna standing down the walkway from Dean. He’d been so consumed with his task that he hadn’t even noticed Jody and Donna arrive. Sam is still there too, which means Jess still hasn’t completed the task either, so he doesn’t try to hurry the judge’s evaluation of his work along, much as he might be tempted to.

She carefully examines each of his flagpoles, and after a minute or two she turns to Cas, smiles, and hands him what very well may be their final clue. He thanks her profusely and then runs to Dean. He shoves the clue into Dean’s hand while he picks up his backpack from the ground at his husband’s feet and slips it on.

“Nice job, Bumblebee.”

“Thank you, Dean,” he replies, taking one last longing look at the otters before Dean tears open the envelope.

“ **Make your way on foot to the Finish Line at Stanley Park Pavilion. The first team to arrive will win the Amazing Honeymoon.”**

“Shit, Cas, this park is huge. Where’s this pavilion?” Dean asks, looking around for anyone they could ask for directions.

“Come on,” Cas replies, grabbing Dean’s hand and quickly retracing their steps toward the front entrance of the Aquarium.

Cas stops in front of the rack of maps, both of the aquarium and of the entire surrounding park, and spends a moment studying it before he spots their current location. The pavilion isn’t more than a thousand feet from where they’re standing, but the only route he can see is around the long road they drove in on, which makes the trek more than five times as long. It’s actually Dean who points out that hey, _this is a park_ , and _you don’t have to stay on the roads in a park_.

With that bit of wisdom in mind, they set off through the wooded grounds in what they hope is a direct line to the nearby pavilion. They pass a signpost a minute later, one arrow pointing back the way they came from labeled _Aquarium_ , and another pointing exactly the direction they’re running labeled _Pavilion_. When they emerge from the park into a beautifully planted garden, hand in hand, the cheering starts. All their friends and family are lined up and waiting for them; everyone who’d been eliminated before them. At the center of the group, Bela stands on the mat smiling and clapping as Dean runs down the line giving high fives as he goes. When he runs right past Bela, dragging Cas around with him to high five the folks on the other side, Cas is momentarily confused, but he can’t help laughing at his ridiculous husband.

They finally loop back around and jump on to the finish line mat together,

“Cas and Dean,” Bela says, waiting for the cheering to die down so she can be heard. “It’s been twenty-four days, and you’ve traveled well over thirty-five thousand miles to get here. Congratulations, you’ve just won the Amazing Honeymoon, and the one million dollar grand prize! How does it feel?”

“Incredible,” Dean says, finally pulling Cas into a hug.

“I agree with Dean.”

“So are you glad you decided to overcome your fear of flying, Dean?” Bela asks. “Was it worth it?”

“I still hate flying,” Dean says, grinning at Cas. “But it was definitely worth it.”

“You’d been saying all along that you were looking forward to enjoying your _real_ honeymoon after the race was over, so tell us, have you made any grand plans?”

Dean looks at Cas, gives a little half shrug with a raised eyebrow, and Cas grins back at him before answering Bela.

“We decided by the end of the second leg that we were already on the honeymoon of a lifetime, but we are looking forward to the more… relaxed vacations that we won along the way.”

“You’ve certainly earned them,” Bela replies, probably mostly relieved to have finally gotten a direct answer out of Cas. “And as for the grand prize money, any ideas on how you’ll be spending all that cash?”

“I’ve still got a moose to put through college and a mortgage to pay off,” Dean starts, with attendant protests from Sam, who’s just running up to the mat with Jess in time to hear his brother’s speech.

Bela welcomes Sam and Jess to the finish line and congratulates them on finishing second.

“This was an amazing experience, and I’m grateful I got to do it with Jess by my side, and everyone else I consider family along for the ride,” Sam says. “And if we couldn’t win, I’m really glad it was Dean and Cas. None of us would’ve been here at all if it weren’t for them.”

“Well mostly it was Charlie and Gilda’s doing,” Dean mutters down toward his feet while trying to hide how pink his cheeks feel, but nobody other than Cas hears him over all the cheering.

“No, Dean,” Cas whispers to him. “None of us, especially _me_ , would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Dean tries to brush that off and spread the credit around to everyone who’s been working to keep their support network website growing. “Charlie, Ash, and everyone else who volunteers their time and energy to help everyone who comes to that site-- they’re the ones who should be getting the credit here.”

“And they will,” Cas replies. “We just won a lot of money, Dean. We can make an endowment to keep it running indefinitely.”

“That’s… actually a great idea,” Dean agrees.

It’s Donna and Jody’s turn to cross the finish line, and with their arrival, the party can finally start.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.  
> Wait, no, that's a lame-ass summary.  
> Wherein Dean and Cas summarize stuff...  
> Nope, still sucks. Um. Okay. Just pretend I'm not here making this awkward and read it. :D

There’s one last round of interviews before everyone’s free to head into the Pavilion to enjoy a celebratory luncheon. Dean and Cas impatiently answer the few questions they’re asked, eager not only to catch up with their friends who’ve been whiling away the last few days or the last few weeks chilling in Paris, but also because Dean did promise to take Cas back to the aquarium to spend some quality time with the otters.

After lunch, their entire party, including several of the cameramen (and women, since Kate tags along as well) head out to the aquarium for the rest of the afternoon. Their flight back home to Kansas isn’t until the following morning, so they’ve all got one last night to enjoy each other’s company entirely stress-free before they have to begin the process of readjusting to normal life.

Dean and Cas get to add one more country to their list of places they’ve exchanged blowjobs. When Cas mentions that while they’re drifting off to sleep that night, Dean can’t help but laugh.

“Did you keep records of that in your trip journal notebook?”

Cas tries to shrug, but the way Dean’s curled around him makes it difficult. “It didn’t seem like something we’d be quizzed on in the final challenge.”

“Oh geez, Cas. You actually considered it, didn’t you.”

“My memory is sufficiently accurate that I didn’t feel the need to record every orgasm, no.”

“So what continent does that leave us to conquer, Antarctica?”

Cas yawns and snuggles down closer to Dean. “Hmm, too cold, I think.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to risk that kind of frostbite.”

“We do still have an Alaskan cruise in our future. We could experiment in a cold climate and then reassess the practicalities of arctic nudity. I wouldn't mind seeing penguins in their natural habitat.”

Dean shudders a bit and tries to think warm thoughts. “And a trip to Saint Martin. We can finally sit on the beach and get you that drink in a coconut I promised you.”

“I’m looking forward to that, Dean. Wherever you want to go, I’m looking forward to going with you.”

“Same here, Bumblebee."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all so much for sticking around to the end. You can find me on [tumblr](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com). And if you REALLY like the story and might want to rec it, here's a handy link to the tumblr masterpost. ;)
> 
> I planned to write out a long disclaimer about how I borrowed some of the race legs directly from the show (because my outline and notes for this story were already 5k words on their own), and how I maybe fudged the departure times of some of these airline flights to fit the story's timeline... (all travel times are still mostly accurate, though).
> 
> I also intended to apologize to anyone who lives in any of these places, or has visited any of these places, and had to laugh their way through my utter misrepresentation of any of the locales I used in this story. I admit I've actually never been to most of these places before. I certainly wouldn't object if anyone wanted to send me on this kind of a journey, though. You know, for science. :D
> 
> But really, I mostly wanted to ask if anyone could identify all the camera crew. They're sort of little Easter eggs...
> 
> Leg 1: Giggles (I wrote this chapter right after 11.22 aired, and this is the "giggling demon" that laughed at Crowley. I just needed a random kinda-sorta evil dude to poke at Dean a bit)  
> Leg 2: Frank (Devereaux, sweetie-pops. Who'd you think it was?)  
> Leg 3: Phil (actually not a SPN character, but named for the real host of the Amazing Race, Phil Keoghan)  
> Leg 4: Ed (Zeddmore, of the Ghostfacers)  
> Leg 5: Harry (Spengler, also of the Ghostfacers)  
> Leg 6: Andy (Gallagher, of "gay porn, all hours of the day" fame)  
> Leg 7: Kate (our favorite AV club werewolf)  
> Leg 8: Stewie (Myers, most famous for letting Sam know what happens when you mess with the Phone Company before having his soul eaten by a crocatta)  
> Leg 9 & 10: Rick (aka "Ranger Rick" Evans, or at least how I imagine he'd be when he's not stoned on TDK Slammer Leviathan goo) (plus Dean liked that guy, so hey, I let him live :D)  
> Leg 11 & 12: Serge (Ladouceur, and yes I know he's a real person, but he was a character in the French Mistake so this totally counts) (An atrocity is happening.) (this is my fic I do what I want :D)


End file.
